A True Love Story
by Magical Irish Dolphin
Summary: After spending years of sorting out their feelings and suffering through many trials and tribulations, Marty Deeks and Kensi Blye finally agree to go "all in." As they learn to balance their work and their love story, Deeks has to resume his most notorious alias to thwart an eccentric mob boss from obtaining lethal military weapons and ruling Los Angeles.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

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CHAPTER 1: CHIPS ON THE TABLE

A few years back, a girl named Tracy fatefully crossed paths with a boy named Jason at a mixed martial arts gym run by some burly ex-Marines.

Tracy was grieving the grisly death of her boyfriend Danny, who'd helped out around the gym. Jason was a hotheaded MMA fighter gradually earning his way up the ranks, hoping to become a respected competitor at the gym.

It was an unlikely location and an even more unlikely scenario for a true love story to begin. But like any good romance, sparks flew from the moment the girl called Tracy and the boy called Jason locked eyes.

It was a total freeze frame; Tracy wore her black jeans and tank top, with a bag slung across her shoulder. Her long wavy dark tresses fell silkily to her shoulders, while her eyes were a mismatched hazel and blackish-brown. Jason, with his scruffy blonde hair and matching facial stubble, had baby blue eyes, and wore a white T-shirt, red shorts and black socks.

However, something was deceptively amiss with this first meeting. The boy and the girl were not what they seemed. But it was nevertheless a meeting that would cling to them forever.

A few short hours later, the girl crossed paths with the boy again, this time at Danny's house where the boy claimed he lived as a roommate. Sizzling sparks shot between them when the girl concocted a titillating claim of retrieving some compromising photos of herself off her deceased boyfriend's laptop. Only the boy didn't buy her story, and the girl had to switch it to a drug buy. He definitely seemed more interested with this.

Even though he was something of a thuggish wannabe who haphazardly carried around a gun, the girl masquerading as Tracy found herself "stuck" on Jason Wyler.

As fate would have it, the boy and the girl finally learned the truth about each other. Tracy was in actuality special agent Kensi Blye from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Jason Wyler turned out to be wily undercover detective Marty Deeks from the Los Angeles Police Department.

The MMA gym was a front for assorted drug activities and other seedy delights. Upon learning each other's true identities, Deeks found Kensi undeniably intriguing, not to mention smoking hot. But not necessarily in that order. Kensi, however, dismissed the scruffy detective as an irritating ass. But Deeks managed to aid senior agent Sam Hanna at the last minute. Deeks demonstrated himself as a unique and effective operative. Regardless, Kensi still found him to be an irritating ass.

She bristled when he impishly and impulsively gave her the cover name "Fern" during their first official op. When Kensi found out that her Operations Manager, Hetty Lange, wanted to appoint Deeks as the team's LAPD liaison, she felt as though the cosmos were unduly punishing her. Why the hell would a clandestine branch of the agency need a liaison from the LAPD? And why did it have to be Deeks? Even his fellow officers found him to be an irritating ass!

For a while this scheme seemed to be short-lived. Deeks had to return to the LAPD to perform an important undercover op.

" _Don't worry, Fern,"_ he promised teasingly. _"I'll be back."_

At the time, the bemused Kensi wasn't too keen on receiving a new partner. Not after Dominic Vail. She had lost her junior partner not once, but twice. First when he'd been brutally abducted by terrorists months before she'd met Deeks, and second when he honorably gave his life to protect Sam some months after Deeks left. Kensi felt like an utter failure at protecting her inexperienced young partner. His death was still raw and heavily on her mind months later, when Deeks came scampering right back into her life, carrying intense emotional scars of his own.

She learned his op revolved around international human traffickers smuggling drugged-up girls. Deeks went missing for a day and was nearly killed. He was banged up, shaken up, and finally patched up - by a vet no less! These human traffickers were a lethal bunch.

What more, Deeks' female partner, Detective Jess Traynor, perished due to an insidiously planted car bomb.

After the team rescued Deeks, he lightly told Kensi, _"Told you I'll be back."_

Despite the severity of the situation, his teasing tone carried a hint of comic irony, as if saying they were always meant to cross paths again. That earned Deeks a scoff and a solid, _"shut up,"_ from Kensi.

The detective put the team through a hellish whirlwind with this ordeal. Crooked cops were even at play. Kensi remembered feeling pretty put off by how Deeks violently handled Traynor's demise. Listening to Traynor herself before she died, Kensi quickly picked up that she liked Deeks. She'd slipped a little by referring to him informally as Marty. Kensi eventually learned the two developed a close friendship. Perhaps more? Deeks went ballistic on the dirty cop Frank Scarly for taunting him with Traynor's death. He'd callously asked Deeks if she was good in bed. A noticeably unhinged Deeks aimed his gun at the disgraced man's heart, and challenged him shakily to repeat that. Kensi, of course, intervened. But Sam and his partner, special agent G Callen, allowed the LAPD liaison to throw some hard blows.

Kensi understood how Deeks felt. She was still carrying the pain and guilt for failing her own deceased partner. But Kensi never let herself get too close to Dom. There was never any concrete proof that Deeks engaged in a romantic fling with Traynor. Regardless, Kensi inwardly noted that her new partner was more than capable of breaking such regulations. Not that she would ever be in that situation. She viewed her position at NCIS as honorably as a soldier. She'd never dream of jeopardizing her job over a scandalous and embarrassing tryst. Not with Deeks or anyone else in the agency for that matter.

Whether she liked it or not, she had a new partner.

That first year with Deeks was far from harmonious. Kensi found his juvenile antics irksome. She was thrown by his constant insistence that they pose as a couple whenever the opportunity arose. He'd often do that just to get on her nerves. He also enjoyed giving her an endless onslaught of corny nicknames, including the detestable "Fern." He never took anything seriously, despite growing up with an abusive, alcoholic father whom he'd evidently shot in self-defense when he was eleven-years-old. The man wound up dying alone and buried in a forgotten grave his son had no intention of ever visiting.

Kensi figured Deeks' act as the class clown was his way of hiding a warrior's pain. But it was baffling how he was supposedly at one time a public defender with his scruffy unshaven appearance, coupled with a stubborn refusal to comb his unruly, shaggy hair, and the apparent maturity level of a horny dog.

But in those months, Kensi's partnership with Deeks withstood a lot of life's heavy burdens. She gamely had his back in the field, no problem. And he was just as game to help her maneuver through a room guarded by laser grids when she was kidnapped by Russian agents.

But during the Christmas season, Kensi didn't count on Deeks inadvertently learning of her lost love Jack Simon. A man she'd lost to his own trauma and demons through post traumatic stress on the heels of his battles in Fallujah, Iraq. Kensi didn't intend for her new partner to learn of this personal hurt. She didn't appreciate reliving that painful Christmas morning years ago, when she woke up alone and found herself abandoned. (And she didn't appreciate having her trust manipulated by a backstabbing Navy Intelligence Agent shamefully faking his own PTSD.) Thankfully, Deeks didn't bug her with intrusive queries. He instead invited her to help him volunteer feeding the homeless for Christmas. They both learned something surprising about each other; Kensi had severe commitment issues, while Deeks was honestly nice and charitable.

Another thing Kensi didn't count on was nearly losing him tragically. When Deeks got shot in a convenience store holdup, Kensi found herself at the hospital, clinging to his badge like a grieving wife, waiting for word on his condition. Dom's death was still raw and the prospect of losing another partner greatly pained her.

Fortunately, Deeks pulled through and immediately got back to business annoying his partner. In other words, it was a happy recovery.

Kensi spent much of that day by Deeks' side. Her feelings at the time were a mixture of relief and awkwardness. Relief in that he was going to be okay, and awkwardness because here they were in a intimate position, and they weren't exactly friends.

But when it turned out Deeks' gunmen were actually targeting Kensi for helping a former Chechen Black Widow trying to go straight with her new family, Deeks proved his worth as her partner. Despite recovering from multiple gunshot wounds, he somehow worked whatever strength he had to haul himself out of bed, grabbed the gun Sam thoughtfully gave him for protection, and intervened shooting one of the would-be attackers in the hospital's parking lot. That enabled Kensi to fight off the rest of them.

Not long after that ordeal, they faced another type of evil in the guise of a thief who turned out to be a cold-blooded murderer. Kensi had to pose as a cat burglar herself in order to infiltrate his operations. She'd helplessly witnessed him brutally murder his own people firsthand. This mission put her very life at risk. Deeks again proved his loyalty to his partner by having her back, and nailing the bastard. He busted his hand, but considering Kensi's jaw was badly bruised by the murderous thief, it was well worth it. Afterward, they'd hunkered down with some burgers and beers on Kensi's couch in her messy and disorganized apartment, and viewed her all-time favorite show _America's Next Top Model._ She even impressed him with her burping skills. Kensi was certainly not like any other girl Deeks knew.

Not long after this incident, Kensi met an individual from Deeks' troubled childhood. Ray Martindale, a former criminal turned informant who became Deeks' personal snitch. Kensi learned something very significant about her partner from Ray.

" _He's a sucker for brunettes."_

It sounded like the two boys went through a lot together over the years, everything from abusive fathers, to wild delinquent antics involving some anonymous brunette.

In the midst of all this, Kensi even met Max Gentry, Deeks' notorious alias. A hot-headed street punk with a penchant for causing bar fights and playing intricate roles in the criminal underworld. He was a very dark man with seemingly no conscience. Kensi was quite stunned that Deeks was naturally capable of playing such a character. He even somehow put himself in a position to sleep with Ray's ex-wife. Kensi watched him kiss her through the monitor in the boatshed. Her emotions were really mixed, so she consciously buried them very deep. She also saw how playing Max badly affected Deeks at times, considering he was normally a sunny person.

Fortunately, Max sleeping with Ray's ex hadn't dampened their longstanding friendship. But sadly Ray had to bolt out of Los Angeles with his new family to escape his dangerous criminal past. Deeks may never see his best friend again.

Kensi felt a little sad for them. She honestly thought Ray was a cool guy. (Despite him calling her Wikipedia for merely knowing the obvious differences between the hunting habits of alligators and crocodiles.) But she also thought it was amusing how Ray teased that she and Deeks had "a thing." She of course teased her partner about this too, but the indignant detective failed to see the humor in this.

" _There is no thing!"_

As more time went by, Deeks became even more committed to the team, loyally standing by them through many ups and downs. With that, Kensi found herself begrudgingly relenting to having something of a real friendship with him. They casually began spending time together outside of work, either going out for some beers or grabbing a quick bite to eat. When Deeks seemed flabbergasted by the stunning revelation that his partner had never seen _Raiders of the Lost Ark,_ Kensi agreed to a movie night every now and then. (Though she felt he watched _The Goonies_ a bit too often.)

But this hadn't change things too drastically. Kensi continued to have her occasional flings, and so did he. Perhaps every once in a while a little green-eyed monster would rear its ugly head. These bouts of jealousy didn't mean anything. And so what if one of Kensi's brief flings involved a guy who looked identical to Deeks. That was only a coincidence. There were countless men in Los Angeles with blonde shaggy hair!

When NCIS Assistant Director Owen Granger falsely named Kensi the prime suspect in a string of murders involving the men who were a part of her late father's sniper unit, Deeks, again, defended his partner. He had loyally stood beside her before, but there was something different about this instance.

" _You don't think it was m -."_

" _Not for a second."_

In that instant, Marty Deeks became Kensi Blye's best friend. The most constant and loyal friend she'd ever had.

But there was still a killer she needed to capture, so she escaped custody and threw herself off the grid in order to ferret him out. This was a personal mission she needed to see through by herself.

This wasn't just any killer. Peter Clairmont was a part of Donald Blye's sniper unit. He had betrayed and murdered his former team members. He'd murdered Donald Blye himself, even tampered with the brakes of his car, just like with the others. Then he despicably tried to tarnish her father's good name by making him out to be a soulless killer, and not the honorable Marine he was. The man who taught her how to defend herself, how to hot-wire cars, track and survive outdoors - her father taught her everything she knew. She'd lost him when she was only fifteen in a car wreck, and knew the military police's claim that he was driving while under the influence was a load of crap. He'd lost his own brother to a drunk driver. He would never in a million years get behind the wheel while intoxicated. So, Kensi conducted her own investigation and kept her teammates and partner out of the loop for their own protection. Typically that didn't turn out so well, and people were dying left and right.

Kensi found Clairmont's cowardly lies about her father to be utterly unforgivable. She seriously considered killing him in vengeance, but she came to realize she was not a monster like him. She wanted to stand for something like her father.

Instead, Granger, of all people, put the traitor down before he could kill Kensi.

The junior agent received some much-needed closure that day. It turned out Clairmont killed a civilian while intoxicated, and senselessly murdered his team members just to cover his tracks. Surprisingly, Granger was friends with Don Blye, and now knew he was trying to protect the journalist investigating Clairmont before Clairmont tampered with Blye's car. The Assistant Director thoughtfully gave Kensi her father's sniper journal, filled with deeply personal entries written specifically for her.

 _Promise me you will always remember this._ _No matter how far away I am, my home is wherever you are, baby girl._

In the aftermath of all this heavy drama, Kensi found it in her heart to make amends with her estranged mother, Julia Feldman. Kensi left her in favor of her father when they'd divorced. Kensi blamed her for breaking up their family for another man. But she'd ultimately learned it was more complicated than that. Her father's dangerous enemy was more at fault. Considering her mother lived pretty close by, and still obviously loved her daughter - evidenced by the framed photos she'd lovingly displayed of Kensi's childhood, the junior agent felt like a royal jerk for abandoning her.

But it was really Deeks who made the reunion possible. Kensi entrusted her mother's safety to her partner while she went gunning after her father's killer.

Through Julia Feldman, Deeks delightedly learned that Kensi loved the _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ and New Kids on the Block when she was growing up. But what he mostly picked up from Julia Feldman was that she just wanted her daughter back.

He encouraged Kensi to reconnect with her and this was happily a success. He felt proud for coming through and supporting his kickass partner – his girl – in her hour of need. Kensi could move on with her life, and finally put Don Blye to rest. Even better, Deeks learned some embarrassing childhood secrets about Kensi, and saw her in her bra while examining the bruised rib she'd received from her battles. Everything turned out awesome.

After a while, Kensi considerably softened toward Deeks' ever persistent need to pose as a simpering couple while undercover. So much so that Hetty actually had them pose as a happily married couple in a gated community to fish out a Russian spy.

Surprisingly for Kensi it wasn't near as dreadful as she thought it would be. She'd never really pictured herself living a domestic life in a suburban house. Not since Jack left her at least. She wanted to turn away from that lifestyle. But she found the notion of having someone to come home to and to fall asleep next to at the end of the day to be quite comforting. Even if it was just a ruse with her cheesy partner.

As Justin and Melissa Warren, they were frighteningly convincing at the swingers' dinner party. They even put a lot of themselves into their roles by telling half truths about how they first met at an MMA gym.

The only thing about the successful op that really unnerved Kensi was Hetty's warning about the possibility of two covert operatives falling in love while undercover, and how that could be unavoidable no matter how well trained and skilled they were. Kensi felt this lecture was pointless. Hetty was nagging the wrong operatives.

But despite Kensi's dismissal of her boss' warning, Deeks had truly become one of the most important men in her life. After all, he gave her unwanted lessons on how to properly use the word " _touché_ ," and frequently invited her to come along with him on his lavish vacations, which she always declined. Surviving copious amounts of fiery explosions and bullets would make any two people grow closer. But in addition to eating takeout food and having the occasional movie and TV night, they even began surfing together, which was Deeks' all-time favorite activity. When Kensi totally forgot Deeks' birthday, she'd felt honestly guilty. She presented him with a box, the same cardboard box that came randomly to her in the mail weeks prior. It drove Deeks crazy because she'd never revealed to him what was inside. But when Kensi gave him a box of his own, claiming its contents was something he always wanted and desired, Deeks felt as though the box was obviously some sort of deadly booby-trap. So he set it aside to open another time.

Even though Kensi encased herself in a thick protective barrier to defensively shield her feelings, Deeks was the only person to effortlessly penetrate through. There was no doubt Kensi had developed feelings for her shaggy partner. Enough so that she actually bombarded him with quizzes she'd picked up from a bridal magazine. She just stubbornly refused to fully acknowledged those feelings.

Deeks however was always attracted to his kickass ninja assassin from the moment they'd first crossed paths in that gym. It certainly helped that she was a brunette. But Deeks felt she was merely the kind of girl he'd happily have a beer with for the rest of his life.

Later one evening after working on a distressing case involving the cunning Russian arms dealer Sidorov, who was heavily interfering with Sam's family life by perving on his wife Michelle, (a former CIA operative whom Sidorov shared a history of sorts with), CIA agent Vostanik Sabatino lost his partner in the field. This again brought up painful memories for Kensi. She forced Deeks to promise never to get himself killed in the line of duty. It was an unfairly impossible promise, but after losing Dom, Kensi couldn't bear to lose Deeks. He was too important.

Unbeknownst to her, Deeks had a revelation of his own. It dawned on him that his partner so happened to smell like two of his favorite things in the whole world: Sunshine and gunpowder. In that moment, he lost his heart to her and would never be the same again.

When Deeks was ordered to go undercover as Max Gentry again, and tangled with a troubled and reckless woman who'd stolen millions in diamonds from an arms dealer, and even had to posed as her boyfriend, things came to a head.

Kensi hadn't handled that case well. She absolutely couldn't stand how obnoxious that woman Monica was, or how she shamelessly threw herself at Deeks. For his part, Deeks hated to be in a position in which Max had to use yet another woman, and seemingly jeopardize his relationship with Kensi in the process. Unfortunately, communication was never the partners' strongest suit, and Kensi was pretty cold to him, even after Monica left the picture.

Despite the hopelessness of their situation, and the off timing of being in a crucial case involving Sidorov trying to sell Cold War era nuclear bombs, and Sam's wife Michelle posing as the sleazy Russian's girlfriend, Deeks decided to let his feelings for Kensi be known. Not in words, but by a single action. He captured her lips with his, and kissed her fully, deeply. An action laced with frustration, anger and lust, but also longing, desire and need.

Once his lips were off hers, he threw her own accusation back at her by declaring brazenly, _"How's that for communication?"_

Utter shock washed over Kensi. This was not supposed to happen. They were partners in the field, trying to take down a dangerous Russian arms dealer selling nukes. She left him to do her job. She needed to do what she needed to do.

And he needed to do what he needed to do. Sadly when Sam's cover got blown, Deeks needed to step in in order to rescue him from drowning. Even though all that resulted from this was both of them getting captured and brutally tortured.

Sidorov had his thug use a dental drill on Deeks. As the device harshly reduced his mouth to oozing, bleeding chunks, Deeks retreated to a place inside his head that became his safe haven. His thoughts of Kensi. Little reminders of her bright beautiful smile, her goofy endearing laugh, even her piglet snores as she slept helped him live through the most excruciating pain of his life. After all, he'd promised not long ago he would never die on her in the line of duty. She was all he needed to keep going.

Kensi of course found him and ultimately rescued him.

Even though he lived through that horrid ordeal and hadn't betrayed Sam or Michelle, Deeks turned away from everyone.

He did manage to relay to Kensi that it was her that helped him survive his torture. But he still couldn't bear to be around her. He shied away in reclusion, locked in his dark apartment. He was haunted by the storm of his tortured and abusive childhood, and hopelessly confused by his jumbled feelings for Kensi. His days and nights were restless and sleep refused to come and grant him any relief. Not even Hetty's dire warning of losing his job or even being replaced as Kensi's partner slapped him out of his trauma.

He did muster up the energy to have a impromptu therapy session with Dr. Nate Getz on the beach, where he couldn't even follow through with his true passion; surfing. He had a nice chat with Nate, though. The field agent/psychologist thought if Deeks sorted out his feelings about what had happened to him, he would get some relief.

The good doctor turned out to be correct in his assumption.

That very evening, Kensi dropped by his apartment unexpectedly. Deeks still didn't want to face her, but something compelled him to open his door. The instant Kensi crossed his threshold, Deeks' personal storm finally subsided. His partner came with yummy tidings of greasy junk food that routinely failed health inspections. But society's mores couldn't weigh down all this deliciousness. What more, Deeks discovered Kensi had also brought him his favorite pastry, the culinary phenomenon known as the cronut. A doughnut/croissant hybrid, Kensi had apparently dropped it off a while ago, the confection having grown stale sometime after she'd left it on his doorstep. But Deeks' heart fluttered at the fact that Kensi actually thought of buying him his very favorite treat. She did that just for him. It didn't matter that it had gone stale. She'd won him over.

Kensi clearly had no intention of having a short visit. She took off her boots and settled herself quite comfortably on his couch. She tried to convince her broken partner to watch a late-night horror movie with her. Deeks simply rested his head on a frilly pillow and listened to her drone on about the movie's plot.

The sound of her voice became soothing and comforting. It helped Deeks gently drift into slumber, surrendering to a vague dream about a love story. Words unknowingly slipped past his lips and reached Kensi's ears. He finally received the sleep he'd so desperately needed. Kensi stayed with him all through the night, greatly relieved he was going to be okay. It felt as though a powerful spell was cast on them right then and there.

But when morning sunshine faintly streamed through his thick curtains, it was time for Kensi to resume her job as an NCIS agent. Once Deeks managed to catch up on his sleep and place the pieces of his shattered life back together, he found himself returning to OSP and resumed his role as LAPD liaison.

Now equipped with a new Smith & Wesson that was gifted from Hetty, Deeks tentatively grew accustomed to the often violent nature of his job. Kensi loyally continued on in her role as his partner and friend. She grew deeply concerned when Deeks began displaying unnecessary reckless behavior, a pattern that was deeply reminiscent of Jack when he'd suffered from PTSD. Kensi strongly felt Deeks suffered from the same kind of problems post-torture. But the difference was that Deeks wasn't her lover.

For a while the spell that was cast between them that special night seemed to have broken. Even though they now shared a special, unspoken bond, they were nothing more than friends and partners.

But Deeks secretly (or not so secretly) wanted something more with Kensi. Something more personal. So after working a case in which he posed as a sex addict and she a nutritionist, Deeks - with his ever characteristic impulsiveness, casually invited Kensi out for tacos. Only tacos turned out to be an expensive, intimately lit restaurant. All the glaring signs of a romantic date.

Frustrated, Kensi accused her partner of still having poor communication skills. Out of options, Deeks switched to total honesty mode.

" _I don't wanna be here with you right now."_

" _What?"_

" _I wanna be at my place right now – with you."_

The seduction in his voice was quite evident. So was the smoldering stare she threw at him for saying that.

Kensi could no longer ignore her feelings. Feelings that had grown more important than her personal vow to never become intimately involved with a partner.

Before they made love on his bed, he gently revealed that he'd fallen in love with her. Even though Kensi wasn't able to vocalize her own feelings, she longingly welcomed him in.

But after a night of ignited passion, the seething tension unsurprisingly grew awkward by the next morning. Their dynamic at work changed overnight.

Not long after this, some random bad guy held a gun to Kensi's head, causing Deeks to completely freeze up. She harshly lashed out as this seemed to confirm that a relationship with Deeks was hopeless. She described her troubled confliction to him with a metaphor she learned in Sayoc. Her frozen lake.

" _Your frozen lake is the name for what you want the most in the world, and you want it. You want it so bad, that you'll do anything to get it. Then your heart takes over. But because of that it destroys you in the end. It's right there just sitting in the middle of this frozen lake. And you think your fast enough to go out there and grab it before the ice cracks."_

It was a confusing and disheartening revelation, but their relationship hadn't sunk into the treacherous icy waters just yet.

Kensi ceremoniously gifted Deeks with her Sayoc knife. Even though she nonchalantly insisted that a knife was just a knife, it was a sacred blade that once belonged to her father. A daddy's girl such as Kensi would never dream of giving this weapon to just any boy.

Deeks was eventually fortunate enough to befriend a Gurkha soldier named Jemadar Thapa, a man who was connected to their latest case. Not only was he good at stylishly slicing off the heads of his adversaries, he was also knowledgeable about how to cross metaphorical frozen lakes.

" _Do not run, walk slowly, stop to look at everything, take your time, she will wait for you."_

Deeks only knew this man for a few hours, but he found something of a brother in him. In turn, Thapa was amazed Deeks found something truly redeeming in him, something he couldn't recognize in himself.

Deeks managed to salvage the investigation by going undercover and regained his shooting mojo by flying a bullet right passed Kensi's own head to hit his mark.

Poor Thapa wound up brutally tortured and shot in the process, but fortunately, he would recover and return home to his family. Seemingly, Deeks and Kensi would recover, also.

The ninja assassin finally spilled her guts as she reassured the detective they would get through this. Deeks lightly and teasingly pressed her to verify what she was getting at. Slightly annoyed, but also obviously overjoyed, Kensi admitted to him publicly that they had "a thing."

It was possibly the most thrilling moment in Deeks' eventful life. His relationship with his Kensalina was finally full steam ahead. Even though she was still admittedly fidgety over this latest relationship upgrade, he promised he would be patient with her as she crossed her frozen lake.

But they never got the chance to ride off into the sunset.

While Deeks accompanied his new brother Thapa to the hospital, Hetty and Granger abruptly assigned Kensi to a classified mission overseas. Hetty wouldn't permit the young agent to say goodbye to her partner. When Deeks returned to OSP, he'd just missed Kensi. He was completely crushed by this heart sinking news. The familiar unfair reality of life struck him once again, and he was left to face the icy world alone with nothing but a handcrafted warrior blade to hold on to.

Meanwhile, Kensi , with Granger by her side, was shipped to a hell here on earth: Afghanistan.

She was reunited with CIA agent Vostanik Sabatino, who was mysteriously pulled off the Sidorov case. Kensi's own mission was to locate and ultimately take out a man known as the White Ghost, a Westerner who'd sold out his country to the Taliban. But Kensi suspected there was something shady about Sabatino. He was acting shifty, and it felt as though the whole task force was against her. What more, the sniper Kensi replaced wound up brutally decapitated. Suffice to say, Kensi didn't appreciate Granger for not being forthcoming about that!

At home, Deeks deeply pined for his ninja assassin. They spoke over a satellite phone on Christmas, thanks to a special arrangement from Hetty. They managed to chat occasionally on the internet whenever they could, and even sent each other selfies one time. Indulging in photos of each other and their teammates helped them pass the many lonely nights. Kensi couldn't believe she actually found so much solace in Deeks' cheesy vacation photos. Photos she'd once mocked. (Especially the one with the camel.) Deeks found long distance relationships to deeply suck. He tightly clung to her father's knife night and day, and even met the legendary assassin who crafted it and gave it to her father. Overall, Deeks honestly thought it was his fault that Kensi got shipped to Afghanistan because of their night together.

Over the course of five months, Kensi began to suspect that Sabatino was the White Ghost, who in turn disabled her car and wandered off into the desert when she confronted him. But she later learned that the White Ghost was actually her ex-fiancé Jack Simon. He was the last man she'd expect to be a traitor, and the CIA wanted to collect his head. With her whirlwind emotions welling up, Kensi refused to take him out.

She put her own investigative skills to use by sneaking out of camp and getting herself captured by the Taliban in order to learn the truth about Jack. While she was their prisoner, she finally reunited with her ex for the first time in nine years. The Taliban held Jack prisoner along with Kensi when Jack failed to convince them to release her. There Kensi learned Jack found inner peace in Afghanistan when he abandoned her all those Christmases ago. He converted to Islam and fell in love with and married an Afghani woman. He was happy with her and their daughter, living the primitive tribal lifestyle. It finally gave him the peace he badly needed. For Kensi it was heart-wrenching to hear how simply Jack had moved on, while his abandonment was a crushing blow to her for the longest time. Even though it happened nearly a decade ago, it still hurt.

But there was much sadness when Jack brokenly added that his wife was killed in a drone strike, and his daughter was lost somewhere. Furthermore, Jack wasn't some nefarious turncoat committing treason. The CIA wanted to recruit Jack, but he just wanted to be left alone with his tribe. The CIA viewed him as a liability.

Kensi belatedly realized that was why she'd been deployed. Hetty wanted her to protect an old friend from Sabatino and the CIA. But considering they'd both got captured by the Taliban, it seemed more likely that both their lives would come to a bloody end. The Taliban themselves tortured Kensi relentlessly. Taunting her, threatening to slowly slice off her head with a blood-stained machete.

For Deeks, things got increasingly worse when Kensi stopped contacting him, and even Technical Operator Eric Beale and Intelligence Analyst Nell Jones didn't seem to know how her op was going.

Things then grew horrendously worse when Nell briefed Deeks, Callen and Sam of Kensi's capture. It was now their mission to rescue her. It was a wonder to Deeks that his heart didn't stop beating right then and there. The only thing that mattered was rescuing Kensi from the Taliban. He just kept telling himself she was still alive. She was too badass to die.

Upon arriving at the dustball of a country, Deeks was tremendously offended when he was ordered to interrogate a blind Muslim cleric to collect theoretically crucial information about Kensi's whereabouts. He'd much rather search for his girl himself, but he reluctantly did as he was told.

Callen, Sam and Granger went out to search for Kensi in the mountains.

It was the most frantic and devastating fifty-six hours in Deeks' life. His Afganhi guide kept warning him that Afghanistan was a place that truly tried mens' souls. With the elderly cleric stubbornly uncooperative, and the team receiving a horrific photo of Kensi's throat slit and covered in blood, Deeks practically jumped over the edge.

Hetty's comment that the photo was highly suspect didn't give Deeks much assurance.

Completely crazed and defying his own moral code, Deeks lashed out at the viciously sexist Muslim, water boarding him ruthlessly. Upon realizing what he was doing, he pulled himself back from the brink and calmed himself.

Collecting his shaky emotions and horrified by his own actions, Deeks, with the help of his interpreter, logically realized he needed a prisoner exchange. Deducing that the blind cleric was in fact the father of a influential Taliban leader in the region, Deeks immediately contacted Eric and Nell. As it turned out, while NCIS had lost contact with it's own team, Eric manged to hack into the CIA's secured encrypted server. Locating the CIA team deployed to kill the White Ghost, Eric and Nell quickly triangulated the probable location of Deeks' missing teammates. Grabbing the nearest available chopper, and loosely forming his own plans on the fly, he rushed across the Afghan deserts as quickly as possible.

To his tremendous relief and astonishment the exchange actually worked. As Kensi and Jack were being traded at gunpoint, Deeks finally saw Kensi for the first time in five months. He would never forget the sight of her beaten face and haunted eyes.

Miraculously for Kensi, her team came through for her, especially her partner. She was shattered to pieces when she finally reunited with them. She and Jack went their separate ways. (As it turned out, Sabatino wanted to safely get Jack back to the US all along.) Deeks was a little choked up by the sight of the two exes together, but he was finally reunited with his partner. They shared an emotional reunion. She found herself breaking down in his arms. It was so unlike her to be this broken and vulnerable, but Deeks loyally soothed her. He tenderly whispered they were going home. She was finally going home with him.

Upon returning to LA, they didn't exactly pick up where they left off. He more than understood she needed some personal space. Just like he did after his torture from Sidorov. He'd been where she was. They slowly returned to their usual work ethics as partners. But their personal relationship was in doubt.

When they had to investigate an unscrupulous NCIS agent named Paul Angelo, for betraying the agency by falling in love with a woman who happened to be the wife of the smuggler he was investigating, it hit pretty close to home.

Falling in love with the wrong woman ruined that agent's life and career. His relationship with her was over, and she was going to be shipped off to prison where he would likely never see her again.

This forced Kensi and Deeks to face the harsh possibility that their "thing" could bring down disastrous consequences. Or at least cost them their jobs. And not only their jobs, but their lives and even their precious friendship.

They found themselves engrossed with a deep metaphor about three hearts, something the disgraced agent purposefully tried to brain-tease them with.

" _The first heart, that's one you show to strangers._ _The second heart, only your family gets to see that._ _Your family and the person put on this earth to walk by your side._ _Your soul mate._ _But that third heart is the thing._ _Never let anyone see it._ _There's too much truth inside._ _Too much risks._ _She saw yours didn't she?_ _Oh, damn, brother._ _This is not going to end well."_

Once the case was closed, Kensi ultimately asked Deeks what his third heart was telling him. Truthfully, his third heart had been heavy for quite some time. He decided to finally listen to it and consciously returned her father's knife. They both knew this step back was the right decision for the sake of their jobs and partnership. But it didn't make it any less hurtful.

There was yet another metaphor they'd heard that day in regards to the supposedly confounding mating rituals of raccoons. Through that, Deeks wanted Kensi to know how he viewed her.

" _Contrary to hundreds of years of scientific evidence, I believe that raccoons do mate for life."_

As his words and the touching meaning behind them affectionately sank in, Kensi decided she was ready to bare her third heart. She used her father's knife to slice open the top of the mystery box she'd given him the previous year. The box he was so afraid to open.

She left him alone to see what was inside. He opened it and found - yet another cardboard box. Deeks scoffed and muttered, " _Touché_." It was so very much like his partner to put up multiple barriers around her delicate heart.

But despite reversing their partnership back to where it was before their desirable night together, (which felt so impossibly long ago) Kensi's "thing" with Deeks still longingly lingered. It was tough having to pose as lovers when it was required by their jobs. Kensi was also stunned that Deeks befriended a DEA agent named Talia Del Campo while she was stuck in Afghanistan. A catty woman whose blunt statement of the obvious and tendency to go for the jugular didn't make things simple on Kensi's warring feelings for Deeks. But they'd reached an understanding after Kensi roughly headbutted Talia, and she in turn gave Kensi a bloody lip.

But somehow, Talia helped Kensi to straighten out her relationship with Deeks. They found themselves growing closer than ever and were now practically inseparable. They still had their TV and movie nights, and falling asleep on either her couch or his had become a natural occurrence. They'd become so close that the word "partners" felt somehow wrong to describe their relationship. Their true relationship. They'd both survived so much anguish, and it seemed merely by thinking about each other they could emotionally and psychically overcome anything.

For Kensi, she could no longer deny wanting the man who'd tenderly gave her a shoulder to cry on when she was forced to relive the trauma of Afghanistan. He knew an embarrassing plethora of her secrets. Little things ranging from her desire to grow homegrown oregano, (despite her penchant for killing the most simple of house plants) to her top-secret hiding places for her precious Twinkies. As well as her abhorrence for liver. He knew that her childhood crush was Joey McIntyre, and that _Titanic_ was her absolute favorite movie. He even somehow knew her favorite color was cornflower blue. He also knew where she kept her secret bridal magazine collection. (In her bathroom.)

Kensi was embarrassed that her most overt feminine aspects were this openly transparent to him. But Deeks adored this softer, lacy, lady side of his kickass Kensalina. He wasn't even scared to admit he loved it.

But most of all he knew something that the rest of the team didn't. Hetty'd informed him about it a couple of years back when Kensi was dealing with her issues regarding the troubled manic pixie dream girl Astrid. Deeks knew that once Kensi was a homeless teenager on the unforgiving streets of LA after her beloved father died. It was the most horrible time of her life. He didn't know all of the heartbreaking details, but someday Kensi badly wanted to muster up the courage to open that part of her life to him. She felt she could trust him. As she once said, she'd trust him with everything. But she wanted to take her time.

With Christmas fast approaching, Deeks and Kensi were glad they weren't literally worlds apart like the previous year. Like any good field agents with ambiguous romantic sparks, they agreed to spend Christmas up at Mammoth to go snowboarding. Deeks claimed that Monty, his bomb sniffing mutt from the LAPD, approved of Kensi tagging along on their Christmas vacation. The partners sealed the deal with a high-five.

But being dragged through a case involving Callen's girlfriend Joelle Taylor, and the bothersome lingering question of how work and a love story could fit together left the partners rather restless.

Finally while skating with Deeks on the city ice rink, (a frozen lake) Kensi decided what she wanted their relationship to be.

Warmly reaching out for his hand, she revealed to him she wanted to be bold. She specifically wanted to be bold with him, and agreed to put all the chips on the table. She wanted to be all in.

Deeks responded to her with one of his famous mid-sentence interrupting, passion filled kisses.

Their Christmas up in Mammoth was passionate and pleasurable. And the snowboarding and playing with Monty was fun, too. They stoked a fire to burn through years of repressed yearning. They were all in from tonight, tomorrow and the day after.

Trouble was would their team be okay with their "thing" blossoming? For the time being they opted to keep it a secret. The team didn't really need to know. Especially their bosses who could tear them apart again with another classified hell.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Vincent Angelo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 2 : VINCENT ANGELO

It was a typically sunny January morning in The City of Angels. The sunny California rays shined blindingly against the towering skyscrapers, while the palm trees soaked it in cozily beneath them.

It was seven o'clock in the morning, and Julia Feldman eagerly approached her daughter Kensi Blye's apartment doors. She was an attractive woman with dark eyes and hair that were almost identical to her daughter's. She was anxious to see Kensi. Another Christmas had come and gone, and since their reunion a few years back, they had yet to spend the holidays together as a family.

Julia understood Kensi's job often kept her busy, even during the holidays. But she guiltily felt that the missed Christmas this time around was more of her own doing. It had been a while since she had a vacation, and even though Kensi gave her blessing for her mother to go on the cruise, it was still a sacrifice as far as Julia was concerned. She was more than aware of Kensi's hurt feelings for Christmas. She'd heard all about Jack. But still, Julia wished Kensi could have somehow gone on that cruise with her.

She rapped on the French doors. The blinds were closed tightly. In the two and a half years she'd been visiting this place, Julia had only ever seen those blinds closed. From the moment she rapped on the glass doors an unexplained wariness flinched the sunshine air.

A dog's alert barking sounded off rapidly from the other side of the glass doors. Julia furrowed her brow. That barking was familiar. It sounded like it belonged to Monty, her daughter's partner's dog. Was Kensi taking care of him? Julia knew she did that sometimes whenever her partner was out of town or undercover.

Then Julia saw her daughter's sleepy-eyed face peek behind the blinds.

After telling the dog to be quiet, Kensi unlocked and flung open the doors. The young woman clearly just dragged herself out of bed. She wore a flannel robe, her hair was wildly tousled, and sleep flaked in her drowsy eyes.

"Mom – you're back so soon?"

"I'm back pretty early, clearly." Julia eyed her daughter's disheveled appearance.

"Shut up, Monty." Kensi nudged the noisy mohawk pooch away from the door.

"Why don't you get dressed so we can grab a quick bite of breakfast before you go off to your secret agent life," Julia suggested lightly.

"Oh, I don't really know if I have the time, Mom." Kensi rubbed her eyes.

"Kens?" A sleepy voice emerged from inside the disarray apartment. Behind Kensi's shoulder, Deeks, also with barely awake eyes, and his natural bed-head, stepped up to the doors to check on his excited canine buddy. "Is someone at the door?" The detective got an eyeful of the surprise visitor that slapped him wide awake. "Oh, h-hi Julia." He waved awkwardly and yawned.

"Hi, Marty," Julia replied pleasantly, getting an eyeful herself of his gray striped tank top with matching boxer shorts.

"I-I was just crashing on the couch," Deeks claimed lamely, ignoring that he just came out of her daughter's bedroom.

Shortening this awkwardness, Deeks quickly grabbed Monty by the collar. "C'mon, Monty. Let's give these stone cold foxes some time to catch up." He dragged his mutt into Kensi's room and shut the door.

Alone with her daughter once more, Julia entered Kensi's apartment and observed the unpacked luggage scattered on the floor.

"You and Marty went on a trip." She took in the evidence. Her eyes then fell on two plush raccoons stitched together intimately, placed on the couch. They held a red plush heart between them in their black front paws, with curvy words emblazoned _Mates 4 Life._

"And hooked up," Julia concluded with a nod.

With a guilty grin, Kensi shut her front doors. She knew raccoons had became her and Deeks' metaphorical love animal, but still, that plush toy was so cheesy. Of course, Deeks just had to get it when he spotted it at a gift shop in Mammoth.

Kensi was counting on Monty to chew it up soon.

Reading the obvious look on her daughter's face, Julia exclaimed, "The sight of Marty with no pants also gave it away."

With the light teasing carried in her mother's voice, Kensi smiled and felt herself relax. She would allow herself and Deeks be bold with her mother. They both sat on the couch together. Kensi placed the love raccoons on her lap.

"So, how long has this been going on?" Julia asked eagerly.

"Since Christmas," Kensi informed her. "We went up to Mammoth."

"You look happy," Julia observed. "In fact, you look the happiest I've ever seen you."

"I do, do I?" Kensi smirked.

"Yeah." Julia smiled simply.

"Yeah," Kensi admitted just as simply. "He makes me happy, Mom." She gazed down at the love raccoons and clutched them tightly.

"I really like Marty," Julia said approvingly. "So, I'm happy for you."

Kensi glanced at her.

Julia harbored a tremendous gratitude to Deeks since he brought her daughter back into her life. She'd always shared a friendly rapport with him. "I think your Dad would've liked him."

Kensi smiled thinly. She skeptically wondered how her tough as nails Marine of a father would've handled his baby girl losing her heart to a man who not only wasn't a Marine, but used to be a criminal defense lawyer. And who vehemently refused to cut his messy, viking mane.

"Yeah, I guess Dad could've liked him." Kensi shrugged. "Eventually – when Deeks grew on him." Kensi knew all too well that was what Deeks had done to her.

"Deeks?" Julia looked surprised. "So even in your private life you call him by his last name?"

"We're taking things one step at a time," Kensi explained.

"Does NCIS know about you two?" queried Julia.

"Again, one step at a time," Kensi said hesitantly.

The agent's phone vibrated on the cluttered coffee table. Kensi instantly picked it up and discovered a text from Eric. She and Deeks were to report to the boatshed immediately.

Deeks alertly rushed out of her bedroom fully dressed. "Kens." He showed her his phone. He'd received the exact same text.

"I'm getting dressed." Kensi set the love raccoons aside on the couch, and darted into her room. Monty hastily exited the room as she shut the door.

"It's nice seeing you again, Marty," said Julia, as she scratched the shaggy pup behind the ears.

"Yeah, with pants and everything." Deeks smiled cheekily.

"I'm happy for you and Kensi," Julia told him.

"Oh, yeah." Deeks was rather pleased she sounded like she approved. He watched Monty closely to make sure he didn't pester the first person who approved of him and Kensi.

"Should I be calling you Mom now?"

"Let's take it one step at a time," said Julia.

* * *

The couple enjoyed a fairly pleasant ride to the boatshed. Deeks was in a sunny mood, sitting at the passenger side, as Kensi drove her silver SRX.

"So, I think your Mom is starting to ship us," Deeks commented impishly.

Kensi smiled to herself at the obvious happy tone in her boyfriend's voice. "I guess Mom's approval is a pretty big deal," she concurred.

Kensi thought those words coming out of her smiling mouth was weird. Her Mom missed out on much of her adolescence, and she'd never needed her approval on anything. But it felt nice to have her blessing on Deeks.

Kensi was dreadfully uncertain if her friends and colleagues would, specifically their bosses.

"Even when she caught our full Monty." Deeks flashed a dirty smile next to her.

Kensi scoffed and slid him a look, but there was nothing hard or stern in her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know if she knows how to take care of Monty," Deeks said suddenly with great concern. "He needs creams."

Julia volunteered to babysit Deeks' furry pal for the day. Kensi presumed this was her way of trying to make up for lost time.

"Do you know if she's ever had a dog?" Deeks asked his girlfriend.

"When I was a little kid, we had a black cat named Sensei," Kensi recalled fondly. She hadn't thought about that cat in years.

"Ewww, your Mom's a cat person." Deeks made a scrunched up face. "Who names their cat Sensei?"

"Hey, I loved that cat," Kensi said defensively. "He was so stealthy, and we used to sneak up on guests together on the 4th of July barbecue."

"So, Badass Blye's first ninja teacher was a cat," Deeks mused. "A cat named Sensei. How appropriate."

"If he was still alive he'd kick Monty's ass," Kensi boasted.

"Oh, there you go again, flinging unfounded insults at Monty when he so generously accepts you as my mate," Deeks complained lightly.

"Your mate?" Kensi gawked at him from the steering wheel, but still paid attention to her driving.

"We got plush raccoons to prove it," Deeks playfully countered. "And just you wait Kensalina, one of these days, that shaggy bomb sniffing mutt will save your gorgeous ass."

"Oh, he will, will he?" Kensi sounded skeptical. "Other than sniff it?"

"Just you wait and see, darlin'," Deeks drawled cockily. "Just you wait and see."

They were relatively quiet as they arrived at the boatshed. They put on their game faces and tried to hide any hints of their true relationship. But they also didn't want to act too differently. Otherwise their investigative coworkers might suspect something.

Being all in suddenly seemed like a no-win situation.

Once they entered the boatshed with its high-end equipment blending with the nautical decor, the partners felt as if they really had stepped inside the principal's office. In addition to Granger, Deeks' superior at the LAPD was also waiting for them. Lt. Roger Bates sat rigidly at the table next to Granger, stoically sipping coffee. He regarded the younger detective with a neutral gesture. "Deeks."

"Hey, Lieutenant," Deeks returned with a wave.

Bates then shifted his attention to Kensi. "Nice seeing you again, ninja lady."

Kensi took that as a complement. "Likewise, Lieutenant."

The last time she'd seen him was around three years ago when Deeks' job was supposedly on the line. But that was actually a ruse to capture a mole within the LAPD. Things with Bates ended in a civil manner.

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries," Granger cut in with his gravelly voice. "Why don't you two take a seat."

"Where's Callen and Sam?" Kensi asked, as she and Deeks sat across from the police lieutenant and the Assistant Director at the table.

As if on cue, Hetty's face popped up on the monitor. She sat at her desk in her office at the mission. "At the moment Ms. Blye, Mr. Callen and Mr. Hanna are off on an assignment in Mexico."

"That's where they usually head to spice up the ol' bromance," Deeks quipped.

Ignoring the detective, Hetty explained, "NCIS has agreed to team up with the LAPD on an ongoing investigation."

"I'm afraid one of your old buddies has slithered back to Los Angeles, Deeks," Bates filled in seriously.

"Mr. Beale, Ms. Jones," Hetty said from the monitor.

Next to the diminutive Operations Manager, Eric and Nell popped up on screen from the OPS center.

"Vincent Angelo has reappeared in the Los Angeles criminal underworld," Eric reported.

A mug shot of a middle-aged man with graying hair, a gaunt face, sunken eyes, and high pointy cheekbones popped up on the screen below Hetty and the Wonder Twins.

"Vincent Angelo?" Kensi noticed Deeks' obvious recognition of the man.

"Yeah, clearly no relation to the dude that sold-out this agency," explained the detective.

Reminded of Paul Angelo, Kensi stared at the mug shot again. Clearly this man was not the attractive Asian traitor.

"Me and Ray were infiltrating Angelo's operations seven years ago," Deeks filled in. "I was deep undercover. Angelo was a mob boss and part of the Francis Ford Coppola _Godfather_ school of old-fashioned mobery. He deals in drugs, prostitution, and most of your traditional shady businesses. A rival crime family nearly took him out, which sent him packing back to New York. I had to pull out and close the operation."

"He's now back from New York and wants to reestablish himself here in LA," stated Bates.

"Why is NCIS looking into this guy?" questioned Kensi curiously.

"Angelo is smuggling black market military weapons," Nell spoke from the monitor.

"And we're not just talking about submachine guns or a few grenades here," Bates gravely elaborated.

"Somehow, this eccentric has-been got a hold of at least three hundred M16A2's, a half of dozen M18A1 Claymore mines, and two AT4 Anti-tank systems," Granger filled in. "And that's just what we know about."

"Which certainly falls into our jurisdiction, Ms. Blye," added Hetty. "Mr. Beale and Ms. Jones have already traced these weapons back to the Naval Weapons Station Yorktown. But that doesn't necessarily tell us how Mr. Angelo acquire them."

"Despite that lapse with Martindale, your cover's still viable, Deeks," said Bates.

"You'll be going undercover with Deeks agent Blye," chimed in Granger. "You'll be providing him with backup."

"Who were you going undercover as when you were investigating Angelo?" Kensi asked her partner.

At his wary wordless look, Kensi took a few moments to silently figure out the answer. The dread in his eyes was unmistakable. It seemed Kensi must tangle with the man Deeks most deeply despised. But the partners knew they had no choice in the matter. They must go in bold with this op.

* * *

Night had fallen over Los Angeles. The various flashing lights of the city lit up the seedy streets, but Deeks and Kensi were in no position to appreciate them. Instead they were outside in a bubbly jacuzzi at a rundown beachfront one-story house. They'd lost track of how long they were in there. They supposed since sunset, but they couldn't possibly say.

Kensi wore a teeny black bikini, while Deeks was in red and black swim trunks. With water jets massaging their hormonal muscles and cloaking the water with bubbles, the two made out recklessly, as waves crashed on the nearby shores of the beach.

Seemingly it was reckless passion. But the partners had their surroundings under vigilant surveillance.

After Deeks trailed Kensi's bare neck with teasing kisses, his scruff tickling her flesh, Kensi detected some movement coming from the shadows at the corner of the beach house. It was time to slink out of the warm, bubbly water.

It took her about five minutes to stop Deeks' knowing hands from re-exploring her bikini-clad body. Once he'd finally and reluctantly released her from his own half naked hold, Kensi giddily crawled out of the jacuzzi. She dabbed herself with a beach towel and left wet footprints on the cracked pavement of the patio, as she padded to the sliding glass door. She slid it open, but before she could step inside the kitchen, a cocking gun was held to her damp head.

"Don't move, lady," a creeping male voice came from behind her.

In a single fluid motion, Kensi quickly whirled around and twist the gunman's meaty wrist, effectively disarming him. She snatched the gun and steadily pointed it at him. She now had a clear view of her failed attacker.

He was a short greasy man with spiky brown hair, dark eyes, and a stocky build. He wore a red button shirt with a white T-shirt underneath and black jeans. He clutched his hand painfully.

Deeks swiftly snuck up on his partner's assailant, roughly grabbing him by the lapels of his over shirt. He pretended to give him a quick look over, and then brutally punched him in the stomach. The blow painfully sent the thug landing hard on the laminated floors of the kitchen.

"I think you're suffering from some cramps," Deeks quipped to the gasping punk on the floor. "I think you should share your Midal with him, baby," he added to his gun-toting sweetie.

An oily laughter rang out from the dark patio. A gray suit wearing man with graying hair and sunken eyes emerged. The man who was Vincent Angelo.

"You haven't changed a bit, Max," he complemented with an amused cackle. "You are truly the one man who makes juvenile thuggery an art form."

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Max and Fern**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 3: MAX AND FERN

"Your compliments, much like your goons, aren't worth crap, Angelo," dismissed Max Gentry gruffly. "You ran out of town with your skirt hitched high."

"Don't you think I feel actual shame about that?" Angelo stated humbly. "Having to leave the city I love was one of the most embarrassing and shameful moments of my entire life. Especially since I ran it for so long."

"Well, nothing's like what it used to be," stated Max. "Ray turned out to be a rat, and you didn't have the balls to keep the empire you already had."

"Yes, it was a real shame about Ray," Angelo said thoughtfully. "He was practically like your flesh. The news must've been a real tough blow for you."

Max gestured toward the injured man wallowing on the kitchen floor where his bikini-clad accomplice still held his own gun on him.

"Take your daughter and go," Max ordered Angelo, referring to his thug. "I don't associate with dirty cowards."

"Max, would you actually let me explain what I got going here," Angelo argued patiently. "God, you were always such an inconsiderate son of a bitch." He trailed his gaze to the gun-toting bikini woman. "Your new squeeze seems like a real punk, too." He gazed down at his personal thug on the floor with a puzzled frown. "They still say 'squeeze', right Mr. Gecko?"

"At least my name doesn't sound like a _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle,"_ the bikini woman retorted.

Angelo laughed delightedly. "Your new girl is a real hot little pistol, Max. You better watch out for her."

"You better watch out, too," the woman countered, the gun still firmly in hand.

"What is your name, my dear?" Angelo queried with a condescending grin.

"Francesca," the woman answered. "And I'm not your 'dear.'"

"Of course not." Angelo laughed again. "Max, call your girlfriend off Mr. Gecko, and let's speak civilly."

"You've got five," Max responded evenly.

"Very well, five minutes," Angelo relented with a light shrug.

Max eyed him narrowly. "Fern, let the Ninja Turtle help out his lackey."

"Fern?" Angelo frowned. "I thought the young lady's name was Francesca."

"I call her Fern," Max explained firmly.

Fern turned the gun away from the man apparently called Mr. Gecko. Angelo grabbed his uninjured hand and pulled him up to his feet. Gecko clung to his swelling wrist painfully with a sharp grimace tightly etched on his flushed face.

Max and Fern quickly threw on robes, as Angelo and Gecko settled themselves on the tattered black couch in the living room.

The living room was a dingy space with laminated floors, black faux leather furniture, a modest plasma TV, and old second hand neon signs adorning the walls. They blinked out colors of blue and red. They looked like they belonged to some dive bar. By all accounts, the beach house was Max Gentry's bachelor pad. It was a little run down and definitely not an expensive Beverly Hills palace, but to Max, it was the lap of luxury.

Max, now draped loosely in a robe, sat himself crossed-legged on his black faux leather chair facing the two criminals on the couch.

"Say, why don't we have Francesca serve us some drinks or something?" Angelo suggested.

Fern entered the living room wearing her own mini robe and still holding Gecko's gun. She scoffed quite audibly. "Who do you think I am? A waitress?" She stood beside Max at his chair, folding her arms.

The next thing Angelo knew, Max whipped out a short barreled revolver from under the cushion of his chair, and casually pointed it directly at the mobster. "Now what the hell do you want? You don't have much time."

"I'm going to win back what I lost, Max," Angelo declared seriously, his gaunt eyes sharp and unintimidated. "I'm starting a new empire."

"You're delusional." Max still pointed his gun at the mob boss and his humbled henchmen, while lazily using the fingers of his other hand to play with the hem of Fern's mini robe. "You're still stuck in the past."

"I have unprecedented access to lethal military weapons," exclaimed Angelo, now sounding like a shrewd business man as opposed to the cool hip uncle from earlier in the kitchen. "In a year's time, there will only be two types of hoods left in this town; the ones who work for me, and the ones who burn in hell. I'll rule my kingdom again. And there's much for you to gain in all of this. There's a great deal of money to be had. You could afford yourself a larger dingy beach shack."

"You really want me in on this?" Max sounded dubious. He still pointed his gun at the mob boss.

"Come on, Max." Angelo said lightly. "This is your forte. You can relate to these West Coast animals. Besides, if I didn't want you, you'd be dead already."

Max chuckled. "I may consider it. But unfortunately, your time is up and I want you outta here. Right now, we got the guns."

"We'll meet up again," Angelo said confidently, as he lifted himself up from the couch. Gecko followed him.

"I'm still the same man I was seven years ago," Angelo told Max. "It'll do you some good to bear that in mind. You know you want to be on my side."

With that, Max and Fern watched as the two men exited the beach house.

* * *

So far things were going according to plan. Vincent Angelo took the bait. Max Gentry had to play hard to get in order to inconspicuously insert himself into Angelo's inner circle. But since Angelo clearly needed Max by his side, Max was practically already in.

As far as anyone was concerned, Kensi made an impression as Francesca Corelli, nicknamed "Fern" by Max. Considering she'd effortlessly took down the streetwise henchman Gecko, Angelo witnessed firsthand she was nothing to trifle with. She was not just the latest girl Max was sleeping with. She was as fierce and ruthless as Max himself.

Hetty knew Kensi and Deeks would effectively have each other's backs while bringing down Angelo's growing enterprise. They were beyond skilled in undercover ops and could pose as a couple in their sleep.

But that lecture Hetty gave three years prior about the dangers of two agents unavoidably falling in love during the mission, now ironically echoed deep in Kensi's mind. The lecture she scoffed at and ignored.

But now the warning actually made sense, only Hetty was left out of the loop.

Also ironically, the last time Kensi and Deeks went this deeply undercover was when they were posing as Justin and Melissa Warren. That was when Hetty gave them that uncomfortable lecture.

Kensi and Deeks had certainly come a long way since then, both as undercover operatives and in their personal relationship. As human beings, Max Gentry and "Fern" Corelli were drastically different from Justin and Melissa Warren.

Justin and Melissa were married suburbanites. They were the two stories, white picket fence, and SUVs in the driveway type of people. They were also innocently naïve, getting ensnared by swingers and lured into a sex dungeon. (Not that Deeks minded!) Max and Fern were not gullible or wholesome. They were ruthless criminals tangling with a dangerous man. Justin and Melissa were normal. Max and Fern were not. And being Max and Fern left a strange impression on Deeks.

It was five o'clock in the morning when Kensi fluttered open her eyes. She was still at the cover beach house, waking up in Max's bed in his sparse bedroom. Only, Kensi found herself in bed alone. Not that she felt abandoned. The neon sign of a mudflap girl glowed dimly red above the bed.

Upon learning what time it was after consulting the glowing blue digital clock on the dresser, Kensi lifted herself out of bed, slipped on a robe, and creaked up to the bay window in the darkened bedroom. Peering through the glass, Kensi looked out onto the beach before her. Out on the ocean Kensi could just make out a shadowed figure surfing the waves in the early morning light. A figure she knew as her partner. She'd known he would be out there on the waves.

Since Angelo's visit, Deeks had fallen into a quiet, brooding mood.

Max Gentry had that affect on him. Surfing was his solace and Kensi already knew this was his way to set aside his angst and clear his head.

She journeyed her way to the kitchen, her bare feet softly creaking the laminate floors. Grabbing beach towels from the nearby linen closet, Kensi slid open the back glass door, where the morning sea breeze caressed her sleepy face and rapidly tousled hair in a heavenly sensation.

She strode out to the crumbling cement patio, passing the jacuzzi, and trailed on the beach. Her bare feet left behind small footprints on the soft sands. Kensi laid out one of the beach towels and stretched out upon it.

As the morning sun continued to slowly rise over the ocean's horizon, Kensi quietly watched her guy riding the waves.

Her mind drifted to the emotional day she gifted him with her father's Sayoc knife. The day she and Deeks ended up together, only to be driven apart. Before she handed him the knife, Deeks requested that they both pretend to be someone else. A boy and a girl who were normal and not saving the world.

Kensi thought of this because when she decided to play along, she introduced herself to him as Fern. She did that deliberately in a touching, symbolic gesture to make him smile.

When it was Deeks' turn to play along, he curiously introduced himself as Max. Presumably, Max Gentry. Kensi didn't take the time to wonder why he went with that name. Not until now at least when they actually had to live as Max and Fern.

It was likely after six o'clock by the time Deeks finally emerged on the shore in his red and black swim trunks. He spotted his girl waiting for him with a dry clean towel. The morning sun was now reflecting brightly off the golden sands. Deeks trudged across the glittering beach with his surfboard, approaching his girlfriend. She greeted him with a warm morning smile.

"Well, morning sleepy-head," he said, as she tossed him his towel.

After he'd dried his drenched body, he joined her on her towel lying on the soft sands. He cozily rested his damp head on her lap. He was fairly certain they weren't being watched, so he wanted to take advantage to be a normal couple. Especially when they were at his favorite place. Even if they were under surveillance, it shouldn't be a big deal anyway. They were suppose to act like a couple. Just like all those other ops.

Kensi tenderly threaded his damp blonde locks with her fingers. She was still unused to this casual intimacy, but she was also greatly relishing it.

"Wanna grab a doughnut or something?" Deeks suggested, quite comfy with his head on her lap.

"Sounds perfect," Kensi agreed. She surely loved doughnuts. "I was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?" Deeks asked from her lap when she trailed off.

"That day I gave you my father's knife, and I was pretending to be Fern," she explained. "Why did you pretend to be Max? Was that just a random name you picked out?"

Deeks was quiet and hesitant.

"Deeks?" Kensi pressed gently.

"No – that was intentional," Deeks confessed.

"It was?" Kensi was rather surprised by this admission.

"Yeah, I guess it meant something. A part of me would like for the son of a bitch to meet a nice girl. A girl he didn't want to use for once."

The two fell silent, listening to the waves and a flock of seagulls gliding by. Kensi continued wordlessly threading his wet locks.

"It seems that Max introduced Fern to a life of crime since their innocent first meeting." She broke their silence.

Deeks glanced up at her, his wet head still snugged on her lap.

"Fern's not a typical girl," he pointed out. "She knows how to tackle gun-toting baddies. Wonder why that is."

Kensi snorted. "With the way they're going – guns ablazing – things can't possibly end well for them."

"Nah – they're gonna ride off into the sunset," Deeks proclaimed, his tone a little bright.

"Really?" Kensi furrowed her brow. "Max Gentry living happily ever after?"

"I love happy endings," Deeks reminded her. "Max has a nice girl with Fern. She's not like all the others."

Kensi smirked.

Marty Deeks and his strange optimism.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: A House Call**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 4: A HOUSE CALL

Kensi received a text from OSP, imploring her to report to the mission. Since she was deeply undercover, she had to take precautions to make sure she wasn't tailed. She took a more unconventional path than usual to get to the mission. Upon arriving, Kensi's phone sounded off from the passenger seat. The caller ID signaled it was her mother. After parking the SRX, Kensi quickly answered the call. "Mom?"

" _Hey, Kensi,"_ came Julia's pleasant voice on the other end. _"You and Marty still working?"_

"Yeah," Kensi replied distractedly. "Something wrong?"

" _It's Monty,"_ exclaimed Julia.

"Oh, did he eat up one of your sponges?" Kensi asked guiltily.

She knew her mother was not accustomed to taking care of a dog, let alone a dog like Monty.

" _No, nothing like that,"_ Julia assured her. _"He's pretty laid back, but kind of - odd._ _Whenever I try to walk him so he can – go – he won't do his business."_

"Ah, you can't look at him," Kensi explained, greatly relieved.

" _What_?"

"You can't look at him when he's trying to go to the bathroom." Kensi tried not to giggle-snort at this explanation.

" _Are you saying he's actually self conscience about doing his business?"_ Julia sounded perturbed.

"He has PTSD, Mom," exclaimed Kensi.

" _Marty told me that,"_ said Julia thoughtfully. _"But I didn't know about this strange - problem."_

"Is Monty's weirdness getting to you?" Kensi asked. "If so, then we can have Deeks' neighbor take - "

" _No, that's all right,"_ Julia interjected. _"I think I'm getting used to him, weirdness and all."_

"Deeks wouldn't be drawn to him if he wasn't weird," quipped Kensi. "They're pretty much soul mates, and they both have PTSD," she added meekly.

" _I have an idea,"_ Julia said brightly. _"How about when you and Marty have some free time, the three of us go on a trip to Catalina._ _We can spend time together."_

Kensi fell speechless.

" _Monty can go, too,"_ Julia insisted.

Kensi was still silent.

Julia was slightly unsettled by her daughter's lack of response. Kensi was truly thrown by this suggestion. She was not ready to take her boyfriend out on a vacation with her mother. Though, she almost considered taking her mother out on a Christmas trip to Lake Tahoe with Deeks two years earlier, it hadn't happened because of work. But still, this was very foreign.

" _Kensi?"_ Julia's voice creeped through.

The junior agent snapped out of her panicked delirium.

"I'll mention it to Deeks," Kensi said hurriedly.

" _Okay,"_ Julia replied hopefully.

"I have to go, Mom. I need to get to work."

After a quick goodbye, Kensi ended the call and climbed out of her SRX. Passing by the cool running fountain, Kensi ventured inside the mission. She found the bullpen deserted. Evidently, Callen and Sam were still rendezvousing down in Mexico.

Deeks was cruising through Max Gentry's old haunts, maintaining his cover.

Even though other agents and personnel still frequented the mission, and Eric and Nell were likely busy with their important national security hacking up in their Wonder Twins tower, it still felt strange and bare now that the four desks in the bullpen were unoccupied.

One thing that hadn't changed was the commanding presence of Hetty sitting at her desk in her office, sipping hot tea from one of her dainty floral teacups. Kensi stepped inside the office. Hetty glanced up from her desk, peering at Kensi through her owlish spectacles. "Oh, good morning, Ms. Blye."

"Morning, Hetty." Kensi wearily seated herself on the chair across from the desk.

"So, our Mr. Max Gentry is in." Hetty sought to confirm.

"Vincent Angelo is definitely interested," Kensi reported. "Deeks is working his way in."

"Very good." Hetty took another sip of her tea. "How are you doing, Ms. Blye?"

"How am I doing?" Kensi arched a quizzical eyebrow.

"How are you doing in the op," Hetty elaborated.

Kensi felt slightly put off. It was never a good sign when Hetty started acting cryptic.

"I hurt the hand of Angelo's errand boy," she boasted proudly.

"So, Ms. Francesca Corelli also made a name for herself." Hetty was clearly pleased.

"Is there a reason why I was called here?" Kensi pressed patiently.

"I wanted to make certain that the op is going according to plan," Hetty claimed. "And that you and Mr. Deeks are well. But that's not the only reason you were called in, Ms. Blye."

"Then why am I here?"

"I've arranged for a meeting with an old friend," explained Hetty. "A meeting I highly feel is overdue."

"Who's here?" asked Kensi, knitting her brow.

Hetty indicated something behind the junior agent. Kensi turned in her chair and saw a tall man with brown hair and blue eyes standing right outside the open office. He wore jeans and a blue buttoned shirt. He was Dr. Nate Getz. Kensi was surprised and genuinely glad to see him.

"Hi, Kensi." A warm grin spread on his lips.

"Nate." Kensi pulled herself out of the chair and gave him a quick friendly hug.

"Long time, no see," said Nate.

"Yeah," Kensi agreed.

The last time she'd seen him was about a year earlier when Nate came to town to evaluate Deeks and Sam after their torture from Sidorov. Deeks had since let Kensi know how Nate helped him sort through his feelings after his torture, and how he was a genuine friend back when she was deployed in Afghanistan. Kensi was eternally grateful to Nate for trying to help her partner during those dark days.

"Hello, Hetty," Nate greeted the diminutive Operations Manager. "Nice seeing you again."

"And the same to you, my dear Mr. Getz," Hetty returned earnestly. "I believe you and Ms. Blye need to do some catching up."

"Of course." Nate gestured for Kensi to follow him out to the bullpen.

Kensi instinctively picked up that Nate wasn't making a social call, but rather a house call.

She was being evaluated.

She felt highly annoyed. She didn't need a mental checkup. But there was no reason to lash out at Nate. He was merely doing his job. Instead, Kensi decided to stall him. "When did you get back?" she asked conversationally, as they entered the bullpen and passed the empty desks.

"Just now," Nate answered.

"Have you spoke to Rose?" asked Kensi.

"Not yet," answered Nate.

"Have you seen Eric and Nell?" Kensi went on persistently.

"Not yet," Nate repeated.

As they crossed into the empty lounging area, Kensi said in the same conversational tone, "Too bad Callen and Sam are stuck in Mexico. I'm sure they would've been glad to see you."

"I'm sure Callen will be disappointed with the missed opportunity to throw snarky jabs at me," Nate remarked lightly.

As they took a seat on the couch, Nate said in a serious tone, "Okay, I think we both know what this is really about."

"Yeah." Kensi heaved a sigh.

The doctor was in and therapy was in session.

"How have you been since Afghanistan?" Nate began gently.

Kensi let out a frustrated growl. "I've already been through an evaluation!"

"Yes, but you've always been open with me, Kensi," Nate reminded her kindly. "You were honest with me about what you went through when your father died. You've also been straight with me about Jack."

Kensi lowered her gaze soberly.

"I think you'd be more comfortable reliving these experiences with me instead of the agency psychologist you've had to deal with. You're my friend, and I'm terribly sorry I wasn't there for you during that horrible time," he stated in awkward formality.

"It's not your fault." Kensi shrugged. "No need to beat yourself up about it."

"Whatever you say to me falls under doctor/patient confidentiality," informed Nate.

"But you report to Hetty once you're done psychoanalyzing me," Kensi pointed out dryly.

"Only to verify with her that each of you on the team are psychologically fit to perform your duties," Nate assured her.

Kensi roughly exhaled. She figured it was best to quickly get this over with.

"Okay – right. Afghanistan," she reluctantly began, leaning forward from her seat on the couch, clasping her hands together tightly on her lap. "Hetty and Granger deployed me over there to take out a man known as the White Ghost."

"The man who turned out to be Jack Simon," Nate commented.

"Hetty wanted me to protect Jack," Kensi said a little hesitantly.

"Tell me what happened once you reunited with Jack in captivity," Nate encouraged in his gentle and kind tone.

Kensi heaved another sigh.

"It was emotional," she managed to let out steadily. "I hadn't seen him in nine years, but it was still emotional. Especially since we both thought we were going to die. I did eventually move on from him, but listening to him talk about how he fell in love with another woman – and forgot all about me – even when he lost her -"

"It stung," she admitted, glancing down on her clasped hands on her lap. "And I suppose that makes me selfish."

"It's human to feel hurt, especially when he already hurt you before," said Nate.

"Yeah, but Jack and I have an understanding now," declared Kensi. "The past is long gone. We've both moved on."

"Good." Nate nodded. "That's healthy. Why don't we move on to the Taliban."

Kensi heaved another weary sigh. "After I let myself get captured, they beat me, fed me their garbage, dehydrated me and threatened to slowly cut my head off." She swallowed. "I was a wreck when the guys rescued me."

"Have you ever experienced flashbacks or nightmares or both?" Nate pressed in his usual gentle manner.

Kensi released another sigh, chewing the inside of her cheek. "I don't let it get to me, Nate. I know I'm more than capable of performing my job."

"I know you are, Kensi," Nate reasoned. "But going through the experiences you suffered, one should expect to come out of it a bit traumatized. Even someone as tough as you."

"I'll admit I was shaken," Kensi amended. "And I do have nightmares sometimes. But I'm soldering on. I still have my head in the game, and Afghanistan is far behind me."

"You're handling this pretty much in the way I've come to expect from you," commented Nate.

"What?" Kensi raised amused brows. " Being insufferably stubborn?"

"Well, yes." Nate nodded with a grin.

She grinned right back.

"It also sometimes takes friends to get over a trauma," Nate explained. "You and Deeks share a special bond. I picked that up when I evaluated him after his torture. He's obviously helped you recover from your ordeal, just like you helped him with his."

Kensi averted her gaze from him. "Yeah, I guess he did," she murmured evasively. She trailed her gaze back to him again. "Did you learn what you needed to know? Am I done sitting under your microscope?"

"Yeah, I guess we can stop here for now," Nate conceded. "It's good seeing you."

"It's good seeing you." Kensi smiled.

They both exchanged sincere looks.

"How long will you be here?"

"For a while," Nate replied. "We'll keep in touch."

As they went their separate ways, Nate picked up two vital signs from Kensi's closed body language during their session. She was concealing something about her relationship with Deeks, and she was possibly in denial about her trauma in Afghanistan. But Nate agreed that Kensi was more than capable of performing her job. He would stress that last part to Hetty.

* * *

Switching cars and changing into clothes that were more Fern's trashy style, Kensi carefully made her way back to the cover beach house. She tread her way through the front door and found Deeks in the living room, sitting on the tattered faux black leather couch. He browsed the internet on his lap top, which sat on the coffee table. The neon signs blinked quite rapidly from up the walls.

He glanced up from his computer screen when Kensi came in.

"Hey, Lady Bird," he greeted.

As she shut the front door, Kensi instantly noticed that he welcomed her in the way Marty Deeks would. Not Max Gentry.

"Hey," Kensi replied. "Has Max Gentry made the rounds?"

"He made some waves at his usual sleazy dives," Deeks confirmed, as he shut the lid of his lap top. "It would have gone better if my eye-candy wasn't called away."

Kensi joined him on the couch. "Oh, Hetty arranged for Nate to have an appointment with me," she explained.

"Nate's here?" Deeks looked at her surprised.

"Yeah, he wanted to talk about Afghanistan." Kensi shrugged simply.

Deeks looked at her softly. "You okay?"

Kensi smirked. "Nate is a friend. Talking with him is completely different than that woman from the Department of Justice."

"Yeah, I know," Deeks said heavily.

"I'm fine," Kensi claimed.

"You sure?" Deeks' gaze was still soft.

"Yes, Nate is much easier to talk to," insisted Kensi.

Deeks felt a little reassured by this, but he remained unconvinced of the true emotional state of his partner and girlfriend.

Kensi sensed this from him.

"Nate was there for you not too long ago," she reminded him. "You know he's good at what he does."

Knowing she was in no mood to talk about her feelings, but also knowing damn well how Afghanistan had scarred her, Deeks decided to use another approach to console her.

"Deeks, I'm fine." Kensi tried to convinced him.

Tenderly threading a strand of her dark hair with his fingers, Deeks suggested, "I think you should let me take care of you for a while."

Noting the husky seduction in his voice, Kensi found herself mesmerized by how dark his blue eyes suddenly became.

"Okay," she breathed.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: An Invitation**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 5: AN INVITATION

Deeks awoke from his dozing, snugged under the covers of Max's bed. Lifting himself to a somewhat upright position, he rested his head against his pillow on the headboard. His dirty blonde mane was even more tousled than usual. From his comfortable spot on the bed, he dreamily viewed the picturesque sunset over the ocean's horizon across from the bay window.

Kensi slept right beside him. Lying on her stomach, the covers hid her smoking hot nudity. Deeks wasn't wearing any clothing, either.

He comforted her and helped her to shrug off an emotional and draining day.

As the serene sun sank further behind the sparkling waves outside the bay window, Deeks allowed his mind to drift to a fantasy of himself, Kensi and Monty residing in a beach house. Not Max Gentry's _Chateau du Crass,_ a less dingy and more beachy type of place.

Before he could further indulged in this, his fantasy abruptly ended when he heard a soft moan coming from his lover. Kensi was emerging from her sated slumber. Deeks tenderly massaged her naked back, eliciting a pleasurable sound from her. He grinned as he deepened the slow, sensuous strokes.

"That feels good." He heard her softly mutter from her pillow.

He further deepened the rub by trailing up to her slender shoulders. He then peppered reverent kisses on her soft neck.

Deeks' cell phone sounded off jarringly from the nightstand.

They both groaned.

"You gonna get that?" Kensi muttered sleepily.

"Yeah, not planning on it." Nevertheless, Deeks dutifully answered his phone. "Yeah?"

" _Deeks,"_ came Nell's urgent voice on the other end of the call. _"Eric and I tapped into Angelo's phone records and found he's been in contact with Salvator Santos, a prominent arms dealer._ _They spoke today and are planning to meet at the Vista Hotel a little later this evening."_

"That's great, Nell. Thanks." The detective abruptly ended the call.

Kensi stared up at him, lazily resting her own tousled head on her pillow. She still laid on her stomach, her perfectly tanned back gloriously exposed.

"Time to suit up, Fern," Deeks told her.

* * *

With the glaring LA street lights clashing with the natural tropical twilight, Deeks cruised the streets by the scenic sea side in a beat up old Mustang. It was his cover car. It had torn leather seats, a shabby dash, litter all over the floor and the gas mileage of a lawn mower. It was very reminiscent of the vehicle their pitiful Santa suspects drove during their recent Christmas case.

Kensi lounged on the passenger side.

The partners were wired with hidden cams and comms that were connected to Eric and Nell up at OPS.

"We're heading for the Vista Hotel, guys," Kensi reported through the comms.

" _We'll be here listening in,"_ Eric's voice reached their earwigs. _"I must say, you two seem rather cozy,"_ the Technical Operator blurted suddenly.

Kensi and Deeks shared a quick look.

"We do?" Deeks frowned. "We're just sitting in the car, Eric." _It was much cozier in bed,_ his cheeky thoughts added.

" _Well, you guys seem more – coupley – than usual,"_ Eric went on awkwardly.

"We're undercover, Eric," Kensi stated a little irritably. "We have to act like a couple. Or we die."

" _I-I know,"_ Eric stammered.

"Are you insinuating something, Eric?" Deeks asked amused. "Also, is 'coupley' even a word?"

" _No-no,"_ Eric denied hastily. _"I'm not insinuating anything."_

" _Maybe it's the Bonnie and Clyde act that's setting you off, Beale,"_ Nell's bubbly voice pipped up through the comms.

"Yeah, we've never done the whole outlaw couple thing." Kensi slid a somewhat flirty gaze to Deeks as he continued to drive. "We're always playing tame couples."

"Max and Fern are different," Deeks merely concurred.

The partners spotted the Vista Hotel up the road. It was a twenty story art deco building that was located just out of the city by the sea side. It was surrounded by gorgeous scenic beaches, palm tress and a vast twilight sky looking down on the massive, yet elegant white structure and the beautiful wavy sea. It was a ritzy callback to old Hollywood glamour. Much of the outside was decorated in shimmering white lights.

Deeks parked the Mustang in the crowded parking lot. He and Kensi moved out and headed for the hotel, the smell of the ocean drowning out the murky smog of LA.

Deeks wore his Max Gentry leather jacket, with jeans and a gray shirt. Kensi was decked in skinny black jeans, a zebra imprinted shirt, a denim jacket and spiked-heeled boots that were murdering her feet. She'd also applied heavy makeup with tons of smoky eye shadow, and large hoop earrings.

Crossing the parking lot, the two strolled through the glass doors and entered the front lobby. The inside of the hotel had more of the white art deco architecture. It had polished black and white tile floors, a shiny and extravagant crystal chandelier hung high from the center of the ceiling, expensive gold framed mirrors hung on the pristine white walls, and tropical flowers in every corner.

It was quite frankly too rich for Kensi's blood.

Linking her hand to his elbow, the two crossed to the front desk. A friendly looking young woman standing behind the desk smiled nervously at them. She gawked at Max's rugged, yet dangerous appearance, and Fern's grungy jacket.

Clearly, the Vista was unaccustomed to the likes of Max and Fern coming through its pricey, frosted glass doors.

" _Guys, Angelo is meeting with Santos in the hotel lounge,"_ Eric cut in. _"It's just pass the lobby."_

"Got any half decent rooms here?" Max drawled to the skittish woman behind the desk, reading her name tag _Grace._

"We're currently booked," Grace claimed immediately and unconvincingly, gazing at them warily.

"You're not a very graceful liar, Grace." Max flicked at the affronted woman's name tag. "But that's okay. We'll try out your booze instead."

He and Fern sauntered past the desk and headed for the lounge.

" _Well, that was a rude exchange,"_ Nell remarked.

" _They're playing ruffians,"_ Eric reminded her.

"Well, she wasn't exactly friendly, either," Kensi chimed in quietly.

Max and Fern entered the ornate lounge. It was more pristine art deco, though it had polished hardwood floors and slightly dimmer lighting than the rest of the hotel. It had lavish booths and round tables, a raised stage with a snooty piano player performing on a polished grand piano, and a stylish circular bar at the center.

"This is quite the ritzy place for someone who associates with Max Gentry to mingle," Kensi observed wryly.

She wondered if Hetty ever got around to killing someone here.

"Like I said, the man is old-school," Deeks responded. "He likes hanging out in _Casablanca_ bars."

The partners spotted Angelo sitting at a back booth in a shadowy corner away from the stage. He was with another man. The two were well dressed in tailored suits. The other man, Salvator Santos, was tall and dark, with gobs of hair gel greasing his curly black hair. Kensi began to wonder if it was hopelessly impossible for Angelo to know anyone who wasn't oily looking.

The partners moved to the bar, ignoring the mob boss.

The mobster, however, did notice them and looked instantly intrigued.

Twenty minutes went by. Max and Fern stuck close to the bar, flaunting some public displays of affection, hungrily kissing and guzzling down their scotch afterwards. Eric and Nell's cheeks turned a bright red as they viewed this through the lounge's security cameras up at OPS.

"Did they just - tongue each other there?" Eric asked Nell, flustered.

"They're very good at their jobs," was all Nell could managed.

"Like I said, more coupley than usual," Eric said pointedly.

Of course, their act made it easy for the partners to pretend they didn't notice Angelo and Santos. They waited for the mobster to finally react to their presence.

But ten more minutes slowly went by, while Max and Fern continued their scotch guzzling and scuzzy make outs. The sheepish bartender looked like he was getting ready to intervene, or at least tell them to take it up to a room, but the couple spotted an imposing, burly man in a suit walking purposefully through the lounge, heading for Angelo and Santos' booth. The partners continued their act of "not noticing" Angelo. They took more swigs of scotch as the bartender eyed them closely.

The burly man stood beside Angelo at the booth, posturing like a guard. Just then Angelo ended his meeting with Santos, and the arms dealer simply got up and exited the lounge.

Finally, Angelo approached the couple at the bar, an amused grin stretched on his gaunt face.

"Max," he mused. "I didn't know the Vista was your scene! You look mighty outta place!"

"I'm just showing Fern what a pretentious bar looks like," Max drawled. "Isn't that right, Jeeves?" He gestured to the bartender, who'd backed off at Angelo's approach.

"Why don't you join us over at my booth for a moment," Angelo invited.

"Can I come to the big boy table, too?" Fern slurred girlishly.

"No, this is just business," Angelo dismissed her.

"Hey, that's discrimination!" Fern argued loudly, causing some of the patrons to stare.

"You and Max are out painting the town," Angelo exclaimed patronizingly. "It would be rude of me to drag you into some old man's dull business meeting."

"Dull business wasn't what I had in mind for tonight," Max retorted, nuzzling Fern's neck. "And it's just as rude to drag me from my date."

"It'll only take five minutes," Angelo promised. "Just like last time at your place, only without the revolver because we're in a pretentious bar. Like that matters to you." He shrugged.

Max narrowed his eyes at him.

"Come on," Angelo said encouragingly.

Wordlessly, Max got off his bar stool and begrudgingly joined Angelo at his booth. Fern looked on from her bar stool with fuming rejection, while the bartender now seemed a little nervous. But that was okay. Kensi could at least listen in on their conversation through the comms.

Sitting across from Angelo at his booth, Max eyed the hulking henchman who obviously was guarding the mob boss.

"Where's Mr. Lizard?" he asked.

"I'm assuming you are referring to Mr. Gecko," Angelo responded. "Well – he had a rather nasty trip out a window. Mr. Benedict here has my back now."

"I see," said Max disinterested. "I suppose getting bitch slapped by my girlfriend might cause him to do that. By the way, you wasted a minute."

"There was a time we fully trusted each other," Angelo reminiscence.

Max rolled his eyes.

"You eagerly served as my consigliere, organizing the lesser gangs under my umbrella, handling the drug deals and working with the hookers. You were an animal, Max, King of the Jungle. Why can't it be just like old times? Why the hostile mistrust?"

"You've now wasted two minutes," Max muttered in a bored tone.

Angelo slowly exhaled.

"I'm throwing a banquet," he finally revealed.

Max arched a brow.

" _A banquet?"_ Kensi's perturbed voice reacted through the comms. _"What is this?_ _A dainty soiree for all the lowly thugs in LA?"_

"Will there be lace and daffodils?" Max mocked the mobster.

"It's a cover," Angelo filled in undeterred. "It's actually a very important gathering. But there will be brownies."

"Let me guess, I'm bringing the brownies," Max said sardonically.

"Something like that," said Angelo with a smirk. "I think you know this will offer big opportunities for you."

"I still think you're delusional," said Max.

"It'll be held on Thursday," Angelo told him steadily.

"Duly noted." With a bored expression, Max shot up from his seat and left the booth.

He headed for the bar where he tapped Fern on the shoulder.

Angelo smugly watched them leave the lounge.

* * *

At the boatshed, Lt. Bates conferred with Granger. It was late at night, the light fixtures dimly lit the front room. The monitor displayed the NCIS logo. The Assistant Director stood by the monitor, speaking on his cell phone.

"All right, that's all." He snapped shut his phone. "Angelo invited Deeks to some nefarious sounding gathering on Thursday," Granger reported to the police lieutenant, who sat on one of the lounging chairs. Granger approached him. "Angelo is calling it a banquet."

"Angelo was always a loony guy," Bates recalled. "Will agent Blye be attending this banquet?"

"Agent Blye will be in overwatch to back up Deeks," answered Granger.

"She's quite the lady," complemented Bates.

"Even with a girlfriend, Deeks is playing a brutal thug," Granger explained. "It's best to make Angelo and his cohorts continue thinking that way."

"Oh, I know all about Max Gentry," Bates assured him. "And I'm not questioning your tactics. I'm just wondering if you are aware."

"Aware of what?" demanded Granger.

"Of this." Bates handed him a large yellow envelop he'd produced from his suit jacket.

Cocking an eyebrow, Granger wordlessly opened the envelop and found grainy photos. They were of Deeks and Kensi embracing and kissing passionately. They looked to be on the ice rink at the plaza. The Assistant Director was already aware that the team had some sort of rendezvous there last Christmas.

With heavy realization sinking in, Granger was honestly not surprised by this turn of events. But he found himself becoming embarrass from it nonetheless.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Secret of Ms.** **Blye and Mr.** **Deeks**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

 **A/N: Thanks so much for the nice reviews, faves and follows. I'm glad you guys are liking my story :)**

* * *

CHAPTER 6: THE SECRET OF MS. BLYE AND MR. DEEKS

"Did you know about this?"

In Hetty's dimly lit office at the mission, Granger scattered the intimate photos of Kensi and Deeks all over her desk. It was late at night, the dim light from the antique lamp wanly warded off the encroaching shadows of the building.

Hetty took a sip of her herbal tea, her expression stoically unflinching. "Why, of course, Owen," she answered simply.

"Is it pointless for me to even ask why you didn't inform me that Deeks and Blye were fornicating again," Granger grumbled.

As soon as he growled out those touchy words, Nell received an earful of them upstairs as she exited the OPS center. The mission was nearly empty at this time of night, and the young Intelligence Analyst was readying herself for her routine heart-to-heart life lessons with Hetty.

But clearly, the Assistant Director had some sort of bone to pick with the Operations Manager. Something derogatory about Kensi and Deeks.

"I don't think you need me to figure out what is going on with those two, Owen," exclaimed Hetty rationally. "You're not a naive man."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Granger responded dryly.

"We both knew this was always inevitable," stated Hetty. "Where did you get these photos?"

"Lt. Bates had them tailed," Granger answered. "He expressed some concern. He feels that Deeks has slept with a partner before."

Nell softly gasped, hiding herself in the shadows upstairs. Kensi and Deeks – they did it! - they finally and actually did it!

"Does Mr. Bates feel this is a cause for alarm?" Hetty asked casually.

"He doesn't like it," Granger answered frankly. "You seem rather unfazed by this unsurprising turn of events."

"Do you feel their extracurricular activities are affecting their job performance?" Hetty questioned him.

"Not as far as I can tell," admitted Granger. "But what they're doing is pretty damn reckless. It's going to bite them on the ass sooner or later."

"I'll handle Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks, Owen," Hetty told him. "I always take care of my own."

"Henrietta, there are some things that are even beyond _your_ control," Granger stated grimly.

"Just try me, Owen," Hetty responded evenly.

* * *

Nell stepped inside a trendy LA bar, her mind a crazy whirlwind circling what she'd overheard at the mission. She'd managed to pad over to Hetty's office once Granger tensely left with a large yellow envelop tightly grasped in his grip.

Hetty could only allow a very brief discussion with the analyst before she'd dismissed her for the night. Hetty clearly wanted privacy. Nell didn't let on that she had overheard the conversation with Granger. But Nell wouldn't rule out the high probability that Hetty already knew she'd eavesdropped. She was like a Jedi Knight in that sense.

Now inside the bar, Nell was greatly relieved to spot Eric at one of the back booths. They sometimes come to this place together after work. It became something of their own personal hang out haven. It was a quiet and secluded establishment filled with many familiar-faced regulars.

Passing by some of those patrons, Nell gladly came over to Eric's booth, but was quite surprised to see someone else keeping her friend company. Nate sat across from him at the booth.

"Nell." Eric glanced up at her through his horn-rimmed glasses, taken aback by her arrival. "I didn't know you were coming by here. I thought you were sure Hetty would be keeping you."

"Yeah, I thought so, too." Nell locked her hazel gaze on Nate. "I didn't know you two hung out together. I thought you guys didn't have much in common."

"We don't," Eric cut in awkwardly.

"We're just doing some catching up," Nate explained in a neutral tone. "We may not have much in common, but we go way back."

"What was it that got you out of Hetty's Jedi class this early, young Padawan?" Eric asked Nell in his endearingly dorky joke voice.

Nell tried to refrain from giggling. She herself just thought of Hetty as a Jedi. She swore she and Eric were of like minds sometimes. She couldn't decide if that was creepy or endearing. She'd often have different opinions on that sort of thing based on her current mood. At the moment, she wasn't sure what side she fell on. She slid down next to Nate in the booth.

"I think Hetty and Granger had a disagreement," Nell informed them uncomfortably.

Eric didn't even blink. "They're always having disagreements, Nell. What was it this time?"

"Kensi and Deeks," Nell explained reluctantly. "They're together."

"Together?" Eric cocked his head.

"Together-Together," Nell clarified.

Eric blinked as that sank in. His face morphed into a comical, baffled expression. "They're undercover posing as a couple right now. They're actually a couple for real?"

"Sounds like," Nell murmured nervously.

"So, they're not putting on an act?" Eric was puzzled.

"Kensi and Deeks are not criminals, Eric," Nate chimed in. "I doubt they've gone native."

"T-That's not what I meant," Eric stammered.

"Hetty and Granger are on edge," Nell cut in emotionally. "I know our jobs are important and what we do is serious, but Kensi and Deeks are our friends. I feel when push comes to shove, we have to make the difficult choice between our jobs and our friends. We can't just sit by, can we?"

Eric tenderly reached out for her hand across the table. "It's alright, Nell." He tried to lift her spirits, patting the back of her hand affectionately. "I can't believe Deeks actually made his move," he added in wonder. "But I did say they were acting quite coupley this evening," he finished smugly.

"You sound as though you're in awe about this," Nate observed. "Are you getting any ideas?"

Eric abruptly released Nell's hand from his comforting hold. "No-no. Don't be ridiculous."

Nate cast him a narrow and amused look.

"Are you surprised by all of this, Nate?" Nell asked him.

"About Kensi and Deeks?" The psychologist slid his gaze over to her. "Honestly, no."

"It's admittedly not that surprising," Nell agreed, amused.

"You don't need to be a shrink to read those two," Nate remarked.

Eric and Nell's smart phones buzzed off. They both received a text message. They were ordered to report to the OPS center.

* * *

It was well after midnight. Kensi and Deeks entered the dark, deserted mission, where they were urgently ordered to report in. They were both annoyed because they were deep undercover. Although they made certain they weren't tailed, they didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. Kensi had already been dragged away from her cover for that unwanted therapy session with Nate. Furthermore, why did Hetty and Granger want to see them so suddenly?

"Hello?" Deeks called out into the unsettling shadows of the building. There was no one on the main floor. "Okay, this is very spooky," Deeks' voice echoed.

Something distressing dawned on Kensi. She looked as though gallons of icy water splashed on her face. She hastily grabbed Deeks' arm. "Do you think we've been made?"

"You think Angelo is here?" Deeks questioned her.

Through the shadows, Kensi could faintly make out the uncertain frown forming on her partner's face.

"We already had Matthias and a mole sneaking around here," Kensi pointed out direly.

"All right, point taken," Deeks agreed.

They both drew their weapons and stealthily moved up the staircase. They silently maneuvered to the doors leading into the OPS center. Once they reached the doors, they automatically slid opened.

The partners raised their weapons higher as they rushed inside the high tech room.

Instead of encountering the smarmy Angelo and a small army of thugs as they were dreading, the partners instead found Hetty and Granger waiting for them in stony silence.

Eric and Nell sat fidgeting at their desks, watching from afar.

Prominently displayed on the large monitor was a photo of Kensi and Deeks passionately kissing. It was the magical moment they agreed to go all in at the ice rink. A moment that was apparently forever captured on film. It could've been a very special photo if it wasn't so incriminating.

"We need to have a serious talk," Hetty told them levelly, undeterred by the two guns aimed at her.

"You two got a hell of a lot of explaining to do," Granger added gruffly.

Kensi and Deeks stared up at the photo on the screen with wide eyes. They still held their guns on their bosses, their shock and humiliation making them stiff and motionless.

"We were enchanted by mistletoe Santa magic," Deeks spoke lamely.

Hetty and Granger looked at the partners narrowly. Eric and Nell looked on quietly and uncomfortably.

"What, you don't believe me?" Deeks teased lightly. "Mark my words, such a thing can happen."

With both of their guns still raised, Deeks stared directly at the Operations Manager and the Assistant Director. "Don't say I didn't warn you when it happens to you guys," he told them.

Kensi scoffed and threw him an appalled look. "Oh, why did you have to put that imagery in my head!" she griped.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Defense**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 7: THE DEFENCE

"I'm glad you two love-struck punks find so much humor in being caught with your pants down," Granger impatiently sniped.

From the automatic doors Kensi and Deeks still held their guns high.

"No harm will come to you," Hetty told them calmly. "You may lower your weapons." She gestured to them slowly with her hand.

Looking a little embarrassed, the partners sheepishly lowered their guns and slowly returned them to the small of their backs.

"What is this about?" Deeks asked tentatively.

He and Kensi joined their bosses at the large tech table in the center of the dark room. The only illumination emitted from the large monitor displaying their not-so-secret Christmas photo.

"It's obvious what this is about." Granger indicated the photo up on the monitor. "We're not as blind as you think we are. Things have been intense with you two since Sidorov."

Kensi and Deeks didn't say anything. They gazed down at the floor awkwardly.

"Would you two care to explain why you stormed in here with your weapons drawn?" Granger demanded.

"We thought we'd been made," Kensi explained quickly. "We thought Angelo was here."

"We have unfortunately experienced some security breaches as of late." Granger curtly nodded.

"The welfare of our operations here - to the best of our knowledge - remains in secure working order," Hetty interjected calmly. "And I can confidently assure you that your covers are still intact."

"Then why did you call us here and risk our covers?" Deeks inquired.

"Can you explain the photo up on the monitor, detective?" Granger questioned dryly.

"Not really." Deeks shrugged with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "That's amour."

Granger shot him a seething and aggravated look.

"Are we being pulled from the case?" Kensi asked.

"Deeks is playing a crucial role in this operation," Granger stated seriously. "He's staying put."

"Am I being pulled out?" Kensi asked with raised brows.

"Perhaps," said Granger.

"We're just trying to get a better understanding of our situation," said Hetty.

"We had Beale and Jones dig up much of your more sordid dalliances as of late," Granger informed them.

Eric and Nell still sat quietly at their desks in the background.

"You two developed quite a fondness for public necking," Granger remarked.

"Is our partnership on trial here?" Deeks stared at the Assistant Director then shrugged nonchalantly. "Okay, that's cool, man. I know my court room dramas. I used to be a lawyer."

"I think it would be wise for you to be more forthcoming about your relationship with your partner," Granger told him authoritatively.

"I told you once that Kensi is more than just my partner, and I care for her," the detective reminded him.

Kensi looked at him with a surprised expression. She didn't know about this.

"Do you have anything to add, agent Blye?" Granger directed his sharp gaze at the junior agent.

She glanced up at the photo on the big flat screen. She never thought she would be in this situation. Was both her job and personal relationship on the line? She allowed her heart to take over when she found herself stranded on her frozen lake. She gazed at her partner, who looked at her like his heart was in his throat. She then returned her mismatched dark eyes to the curmudgeon that was the Assistant Director. Hetty looked at her stoically, waiting for her response.

"Deeks is my partner," Kensi finally spoke, folding her arms.

"In more ways than one," Granger quipped.

Ignoring him, Kensi declared resolutely, "He's my partner and I trust him with everything."

Deeks gazed at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration sparkling in his eyes. His partner and his Lady Bird had his back. He would gladly return the favor. "So, what is this all about?" Deeks turned his attention to the monitor. "You got a love story going on here?"

Kensi threw him a gaping look. He didn't notice - his attention returning back to the two bosses.

"Actually, what we got is a detailed record of two competent operatives," Eric boasted suddenly from his desk.

The partners found themselves taken aback by this. Was Eric actually defending them?

"Competent at what?" Granger grumbled.

"Agent Blye and Detective Deeks have always perform professionally in the field," Nell joined in. "They typically follow orders and always have each other's backs."

"Perhaps," Granger conceded. "We do know they have each other's backs."

"Oh, Owen," Hetty groaned, lowering her mortified gaze in a grimace.

"Yes, I know, Henrietta," Granger admitted guiltily. "That was too easy."

After an uncomfortable silence, Granger told the Wonder Twins, "Resume."

"Earlier this evening, Nell and I glimpsed Kensi and Deeks getting their PDA on while undercover at the Vista Hotel." With some simple taps on his tablet, Eric summoned up some surveillance footage on the big screen, locking in on the partners crassly making out at the bar in the hotel lounge.

"So you did." Granger was clearly unimpressed by Eric's explanation, but the Ren-fest loving geek was far from finished.

"Now, bear in mind, this is not Kensi and Deeks displaying these icky, adolescences hormones that would freak out the most hardened maker-outer," Eric stressed pointedly. "But rather their characters Max and Fern. Or is her character's name Francesca?" Eric placed a confound hand on his chin, brows furrowed. "I forget which."

"What's your point?" Granger was clearly growing more impatient.

"Angelo came scurrying up to them at the bar some thirty minutes later." Nell used her tablet to speed up the footage to show Angelo speaking with Max and Fern in his jovial, villainous manner. "He totally bought their act," said Nell, glancing at the Assistant Director from her spot at her desk. "Angelo believes they are a couple."

"Well, that wouldn't be too hard to do," Granger countered. "Considering they're actually a couple who would likely challenge these so-called hardened maker-outers."

"This provocative act massively improved their undercover prowess," Eric insisted. "I'd argue this is a good thing, on the account that they pose as a couple in the vast majority of their ops. To demonstrate this improvement, allow me to show some footage from 2010."

"2010?" Deeks raised surprised brows.

Did Eric and Nell actually maintain an entire cyber library of his and Kensi's undercover ruses through the years? Deeks struggled to convince himself that wasn't creepy.

Eric displayed another black and white surveillance recording of the partners, this time at a jewelry store. Kensi's eyes widened in startled recognition. "That's one of our first undercover acts-"

"- as a couple," Eric finished for her.

That day, Kensi and Deeks posed as a couple picking out a diamond engagement ring. Kensi hated every single moment of it at the time. Through the old footage her discomfort plainly showed when Deeks placed his unwanted hand on her waist. Even though there was no sound, Kensi picked up the cringed moment when Deeks called her, "My sweet." She deliberately tried to make him uncomfortable by eyeing the most gaudy rings imaginable, and sticking a well stated long spiked heel into his foot.

It could've been a fond and funny memory if it wasn't being shown by Eric on a large monitor so Hetty and Granger could judge them.

"So, that was during a time when Deeks and Blye weren't all kissy-face," Granger commented.

"But notice how awkward they looked there." Eric paused the footage and pointed at the greenly acted operatives on the screen. "It's a wonder that our suspect/jeweler bought that."

"There was none of that in the lounge tonight," Nell added.

From there, the Wonder Twins spent nearly an hour showing more footage of Kensi and Deeks' undercover works through the years, and how they gradually grew more comfortable posing as adorable and quirky couples. (Especially Kensi.)

"I think you two have made a valid point," Hetty told Eric and Nell, even though they were not finished with their presentation. "You eloquently demonstrated how Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks have grown quite comfortable working together in the nearly five years of their partnership. Considering they were so belligerent with each other in the beginning."

Eric and Nell beamed at Hetty's glowing words.

"Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks performed well tonight," Hetty commended.

"Yes, but their relationship has evolved into an inappropriate one in the workplace," Granger argued. "This could endanger not only their lives, but also anyone in the field with them."

"Actually, we think their personal relationship has become their greatest asset in the field," said Nell.

"How so?" Granger wrinkled his already creased brows.

"They haven't been messing up in the field or during undercover," Nell explained. "We just showed you they are now stronger operatives. We all know that one of the most dangerous undercover assignments is feigning a romantic relationship. Intimacy is the most difficult nuance to fake."

"Let us not forget that Deeks was the one who located and rescued Kensi in Afghanistan," Eric added helpfully. "Not to mention the rest of the team, and yourself Assistant Director."

"Yes," Granger huffed softly.

Kensi slid a brief sideways glance to Deeks. The detective was clearly a little emotional reliving the painful nightmare of Afghanistan. She was aware that the rescue mission threw him into a dark pit of despair. But he didn't want to delve into those experiences with her. He was more driven to simply help her heal from her own traumas from that place. Deeks always insisted that Kensi had it far worse over there than he did. Kensi didn't want to argue the issue. If anything, she herself would give anything to forget everything about Afghanistan.

"You two have been uncharacteristically quiet during this presentation." Hetty observed the partners curiously.

"Eric and Nell have been pretty awesome so far." Deeks lightly shrugged.

"Considering they have been defending your asses, it's not a shock you'd appreciate them," Granger countered. "Now, do you two have anything to fill in or explain?"

"We're partners," Deeks said steadily, folding his arms. "We look out for each other."

"Agent Blye?" Granger dragged his gaze to Kensi. "What say you?"

"I meant what I said," Kensi reiterated. "Deeks is my partner and I trust him with everything."

At that proclamation, Granger tightly shut his eyes and roughly exhaled.

"Oh, c'mon, man," Deeks lightly pleaded to the Assistant Director. "Underneath the Grinchy exterior is a heart, or at least something like one."

Granger shot him a very stern look. "Don't get cute with me, detective."

Deeks averted his gaze from him slightly.

"You need to give an explanation to Lt. Bates," the Assistant Director told Deeks unexpectedly. "He was the one who showed me the photos."

With that, Granger strode out of the OPS center, leaving Deeks befuddled.

"Ms. Blye, please join me in my office," said Hetty.

With a creased brow, Kensi simply said, "Okay," then followed her petite boss out of the dark high tech room.

Deeks looked at Eric and Nell thankfully as they hastily removed all of the video footage and the compromising photo from the large monitor.

"Hey, thanks for saving our asses," Deeks told them gratefully. "Also, would you mind e-mailing me those photos?"

"Sure, anything to help." Eric grinned.

"After everything that happened in Afghanistan, and how determined you were to find her, we just couldn't let you guys down," Nell added loyally.

"I wouldn't have found her if it weren't for you guys," Deeks told them softly.

"Yeah, well, I picked up on how much you love her," Nell absently uttered.

At those words, Deeks slightly flinched and laughed nervously. "Wow."

Eric was just as surprised that his best co-worker actually blurted that out. Noticing the obvious discomfort from the two men, Nell blushed. "Hmm, did I just say that out loud?"

"Um, yeah, you did," Eric said to her, flustered.

Deeks shifted his attention to the closed doors. "What does Hetty want with her?" he murmured forlornly.

"Is there something specific you're worried about?" Eric asked him.

With his worried gaze still glued to the doors, Deeks answered lowly, "Yeah, another Afghanistan situation."

* * *

Kensi sat across from Hetty's desk in the dimly lit office. The Operations Manager sat behind her desk, folding her hands. "Do you view your relationship with your partner as a serious affair, Ms. Blye?"

"You and Granger obviously know what our relationship is," Kensi countered sharply.

"Indeed," Hetty concurred. "Your private life should be as it is – private."

Kensi silently nodded.

"But I couldn't help but notice that you hadn't been in a steady and committed relationship since – you know who," Hetty said delicately.

Kensi again silently nodded at her words.

"Since Mr. Deeks is your partner, do you think you two can manage to separate your personal lives from your professional one?"

Before Kensi could answer, a pleading murmur trailed down to them from up the shadows of the deserted mission. "I meant what I said, Hetty. I'll go back to the LAPD if you don't punish Kensi."

Hetty and Kensi gazed up, spying Deeks' unmistakable outline leaning against the railing through the shadows upstairs. Kensi furrowed her brow. Evidently, Deeks had supplied quite a few touching admissions while she was in Afghanistan.

"Why don't you come down and join us, Mr. Deeks," Hetty invited.

Deeks swiftly made his way down the flight of stairs and joined the two women in the open office. He sat on the chair next to Kensi.

"Mr. Deeks, a year ago you received a note delivered to you by Ms. Blye, containing personal words that held a special significance to you."

Deeks thought back to that night at the armory. Back when he and Kensi were in a rocky and unpredictable stage of their relationship after the whole Monica ordeal. But that odd mystery note gave him a glimmer of hope.

"Sunshine and gunpowder," he whispered wistfully.

Kensi frowned. "Sunshine and gunpowder?"

"You gave me that note," Deeks said to Hetty knowingly.

The Operations Manager didn't respond.

"You were giving me actual encouragement to go after Kensi!" Deeks was truly astonished.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Kensi interjected, utterly shocked. "You wanted me and Deeks to get together?" She questioned her boss.

"I always knew there was a spark between you two right from the start," Hetty finally answered. "I've been around long enough to know that you two could develop the kind of relationship that would grow into something more. I've known agents who've had that happen to them. That was why I gave you both that lecture three years ago."

"Did you want me and Deeks to hook up?" Kensi asked her directly.

"About four years ago, I advised you to think ahead about your life, Ms. Blye," Hetty reminded her. "That there may come a time when you'd hang up your gun."

"When you gave me Bette Davis' makeup weaponry," Kensi recalled fondly.

"That blush/blade thing is still so creepy," Deeks remarked randomly.

"You claimed that you highly doubted you'd find someone who could accept your gun blazing life style," Hetty continued. "You felt you wouldn't maintain a lasting relationship with a civilian. I knew you would eventually grow close with someone in the agency."

"And then you gave me that note," Deeks said cockily.

"Your attraction to Ms. Blye was always apparent, Mr. Deeks," Hetty countered. "As was the case when your attraction to her developed into much stronger feelings."

"Okay, fair enough." Deeks shrugged. "But when did you figure out Kensi developed feelings for me?" he asked giddily. "I definitely want to know that."

Kensi scoffed, feeling her cheeks becoming hot. "Deeks," she muttered, embarrassed.

"It's now officially clear how you two feel for each other," Hetty told him.

"You are the Master of the Universe," Deeks complemented slyly. "But there's something I need to know."

"And what is that?" Hetty asked.

"Are you going to send Kensi off someplace and put her through another dangerous op?" Deeks' teasing manner dramatically dissipated.

Kensi gawked at him.

"Ms. Blye works for a clandestine branch of an agency handling national security," Hetty said to him. "It is a part of her job to be deployed, even unexpectedly. Somewhere out there a highly capable sniper is needed for a job, and Ms. Blye has those qualifications. Just like you with your undercover expertise. There will likely be times when you two will have to be separated. But with that said, I didn't split you two up for disciplinary reasons. My reasons for deploying Ms. Blye to Afghanistan had nothing to do with your budding relationship." Hetty then became remorseful. "My intention was for Kensi to protect a dear friend. But not at her expense."

Kensi lowered a glassy gaze to her lap. "You should've been up front with me about Jack," she said steadily.

"I know," Hetty whispered. "But much of the op was classified and I bent too many laws to see it fulfilled. I'm not going to interfere with you two. I believe you should make your own choices."

"Considering you know all about sunshine and gunpowder," Deeks pointed out.

"Now, that doesn't mean you two are allowed to carelessly snog in the workplace," Hetty chided. "Unless it's part of your cover, like with Mr. Gentry and Ms. Corelli."

"That won't be an issue," Kensi promised. "I have a rule for that sort of thing."

"You do?" Deeks threw her a disappointed look. "Since when?"

"Since now," Kensi proclaimed.

"I believe what I told you a few years ago still rings true, Ms. Blye," said Hetty. "Sooner or later you'll reach the point when you must decide whether or not to hang up your gun. Especially now you've found someone to be close with."

Kensi tried not to show it, but Hetty's words not only hit her like a ton of bricks, but she also felt like those same bricks somehow wound up shackled to her ankles, and were now dragging her down a steep cliff like she was Wiley Coyote.

* * *

With bleary eyes, Kensi stared around the harsh rocky cavern surrounding her. Her mouth was tightly gagged and her hands were tied roughly behind her back. Jack, who was also painfully restrained, leaned miserably against the jagged wall of the cave. A small camp fire crackled between them, offering flickering light.

Kensi laid beaten on her stomach on the hard earth of their prison, brutally defeated. She felt the last ounce of life draining away from her. Her body was numbly becoming an empty, soulless shell.

Badly needing refuge, Kensi retreated to the sweet memory of the night she spent with her lover. The first time Deeks made love to her, but not before he tenderly showed one of his three hearts by professing his own love.

Cruelly, Kensi was violently slapped away from that passionate night and forced back to that damn cave. One of the Taliban thugs was in the mood to torment her. He brought out his trusty bloodstained machete. "Most people believe that we chopped off their head quickly," he taunted in rough English. "That's not what we do. We sawed them slowly, huh?"

Kensi's eyes widened in horror-struck at the sight of the bloody blade. She let out an uncharacteristic fearful whimper. She silently prayed for the agony to mercifully end.

Kensi shot open her eyes and gasped. She felt like she was pulled away from another realm. She was no longer in that cave of horrors. She was lying in bed. The first thing that came to her adjusted vision was the glowing red light emitting from the neon sign of a mudflap girl. Max Gentry's version of an amorous atmosphere.

"Kens?" Deeks' quiet and concerned voice reached out to her, but Kensi realized he wasn't in bed. She sat up through the sheets and covers and found Deeks standing by the bay windows across from the bed, wearing a white T-shirt and pajama bottoms. "Did you have a nightmare?" Through the red glow of a neon stripper, Kensi could make out the knowing look on Deeks' shadowed face. She momentarily squeezed shut her eyes. "Wanna talk about it?" Deeks offered gently.

"No." Kensi pulled the covers off herself, revealing tiny black shorts and a sheer white tank top with a black bra obviously underneath. "I'm good." She joined him at the bay window. They watched as the soft waves swayed up on the shores of the beach, glistening in the early morning light. "You seem more troubled. Why are you out of bed?"

Deeks didn't believed her when she claimed she was good, but she already seemed to be over whatever trauma her nightmare inflicted.

"I can't sleep." He exhaled.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Kensi asked him.

Deeks lightly scoffed. "I'm getting this from you?"

Kensi folded her arms and raised pointed eyebrows at him.

"I can't get my brain to shut up about all the weirdness that went down," Deeks explained.

"About Hetty and Granger finding out about us?" Kensi murmured.

"That, and this feeling that something bad is gonna happen." Deeks sighed.

Kensi understood his dread. She'd suffered through a similar feeling the morning after she first made love to him.

Her frozen lake.

"We seem to have Hetty on our side," Kensi said comfortingly. "We've got that going for us."

Deeks smiled wanly.

"Also, Mom invited us and Monty to go on a trip to Catalina with her." Kensi smiled encouragingly, causing Deeks' own smile to widened. "We can't let Monty down by jipping him out of his vacation."

"You really are in, aren't you?" he said to her in wonder.

"Tonight, tomorrow and the day after," she reminded him.

He grinned warmly at her words.

"And you seem to be losing your touch, detective," Kensi teased. "You didn't interrupt my sentence with a -"

Deeks rectified his earlier error by quickly capturing her lips with his.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Banquet**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 8: THE BANQUET

The Thursday morning sun brightly drenched the shabby beach house, as the ever blissful sea breeze gently glided through the rotting shutters.

Kensi emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed in a black shirt with matching shorts and flip flops. Deeks stood in the middle of the living room, donning Max's Gentry leather jacket. His back was stiffly turned to her. She realized he was sheepishly speaking on his smart phone.

"Hey, Lieutenant. Yeah. I thought you'd like to know that I am involved with my partner Kensi at NCIS, if you know what I mean. So yeah, those photos are the real deal." He fell into an awkward pause. "I thought you'd like to know." He hastily ended the call. He took a second to adore his phone's new wallpaper. It was one of the photos of him and his Princess kissing passionately at the ice rink.

"You just told Bates we're together?" Kensi spoke abruptly, causing Deeks to spin around alarmed.

"Um, yeah," Deeks replied nervously.

"Well, how did he take it?" Kensi asked anxiously.

"Dunno," Deeks answered guiltily with a light shrug. "I left it in his voice mail."

Kensi bit her bottom lip. Eyeing his clothes, she observed, " You look ready to attend Angelo's luncheon."

"Banquet," Deeks corrected her.

"Whatever." Kensi rolled her eyes. "Whoever heard of a mob boss throwing girlie parties."

"You got my back?" Deeks asked her softly.

"Always," Kensi answered with simple affection.

"Then let's do this," said Deeks.

* * *

Making his grand entrance at the glitzy Vista Hotel in the disgraceful Mustang, Max Gentry stepped out of the crookedly parked vehicle.

Out on the vast ocean, Kensi hid herself inside the cabin of a small white boat which blended naturally with the scattered fishing boats and pleasure crafts dotting the California shoreline. Sitting on a reasonably cushy chair in her black shirt and shorts, she peered through the scope of her sniper rifle. She spotted her partner in the parking lot.

"Deeks is at the Vista," Kensi reported through the comms.

" _Standby_ ," ordered Granger's gruff voice in her earwig.

Kensi maneuvered the boat to give herself the best possible view of the lounge's massive wide windows.

Max strode his way into the hotel's lobby. Upon entering, Max found the massive black and white room nearly deserted. Hardly anyone was around. The only one there was Grace working the front desk, who acted a little standoffish at Max's entrance. Coldly ignoring her, Max headed for the lounge. He noticed some activity going on in that direction. Soft piano music played, and he heard mingling voices as he approached. Once he came to the entrance he found a little private soiree.

The party-goers were an assortment of aged or rough looking males wearing fancy suits. Angelo mingled with the guests in the center of the lounge.

The warm California rays streamed through the many wide windows, deepening the seams in Angelo's gaunt face. He locked his gaze on Max. The old-school mob boss donned an expensive gray Italian suit. His oily, graying hair was sleeked back, but he didn't really look sophisticated. If anything, he looked to be even more of an overgrown man-child. A wealthy spoiled brat in the mob. There was an unsettling gleam in his eyes.

Excusing himself from his snazzy-dressed guests, Angelo strolled across the lounge. He eyed Max's street clothes with rapid disdained.

"Max, this is suppose to be a shindig!" the mobster chastised. "What the hell are you dressed like a hood for?!"

"That's basically who I am," Max countered.

"This won't do!" Angelo bemoaned. "You have to change."

"But I left my cummerbund at home," Max whined sarcastically.

"There's a suit waiting for you in the men's room," Angelo informed him shortly.

"What – the hell?" Max gave him a affronted look, totally flabbergasted.

"Change," Angelo ordered firmly. "I'm not letting you embarrass me. My God, the party has 'banquet' in its title! You honestly didn't know that automatically translates to wear a damn suit!?"

"I never needed to wear a suit to do my job," Max drawled.

"You will now," Angelo hissed.

" _Shorten this argument,"_ Granger ordered Deeks through the comms, his clipped tone obviously bored. _"Go change your clothes and appease the freak."_

"Your banquet is a real bust so far," Max muttered evenly.

"It's anything but." Angelo grinned giddily. "You'll like what I have in store. The men's room is out in the lobby."

With a resentful glare, Max stalked back to the lobby. He found the men's room in the back corner and barged inside. The restroom was sparkling clean and sterile, with black and white tile which accentuated the art deco. It was thankfully deserted.

"I have to say, I'm a little spooked by what's going on," Deeks admitted, as he found a polished gray suit jacket, black slacks and matching turtleneck hanging on the door of one of the stalls.

" _I take it that dressing you up for parties is a new quirk of his?"_ Granger asked him through the comms.

"Yeah, but then again, he never threw a banquet, either," muttered Deeks.

" _He probably just wants to make sure you're not bugged,"_ Kensi spoke. _"He's being cautious."_

" _And he's a highly dangerous mafioso with lethal military hardware,"_ Granger reminded direly.

"Oh, I haven't forgotten he's a psycho," Deeks assured. "It's his horrible fashion sense that's throwing me off." He inspected his new suit for anything out of the ordinary. Once things seemed kosher, he traded Max's street clothes for the suit. "I'm glad that he's so old fashioned that it never occurred to him to just look in my ear," Deeks quipped.

When he returned to the lounge, Angelo didn't pester him. In fact, he was too engrossed with his way-too-enthusiastic mingling with some well-dressed shady figures, sporting obvious gang tattoos, to notice.

Back in Max mode, the detective took in his surroundings and stalked to the bar. Nate, undercover as a bartender, wiped down the counter.

"Bourbon," Max ordered.

Nate quickly filled his glass with no comment and Max casually shortchanged him. He took a swig of his drink.

"Max." Angelo came scurrying up, this time a rather short man in a matching turtleneck and jacket accompanied him. "I'd like you to meet someone."

Max placed his now empty glass on the bar and properly gazed at Angelo's latest stooge. Deeks always prided himself on being one of the most gifted undercover operatives in the LAPD. He'd further enhanced his craft at NCIS. But even with all of his ace training and natural street smarts, it was a challenge to remain in cover.

The guest Angelo was introducing was a certain kickass warrior from Nepal.

"Max, please meet – what's your name again, buddy?" Angelo was at a lost for the man's name. "Zapa?"

"Jemedar Thapa," the warrior corrected stoically.

"Oh, yes!" Angelo responded jovially. "Thapa."

From her boat, Kensi's mental alarm bells blared like sirens. She swiftly caught sight of Thapa (begrudgingly wearing a turtleneck) through the scope of her sniper rifle. " _Got visual on Thapa!"_ she proclaimed through the comms.

Kensi fell into a severe panic. Deeks' cover was about to get blown, or worse, he'd get his head sliced off. She cursed under her breath, feeling helpless for her partner's safety. She clung ever tightly to her weapon.

But in the lounge, Thapa sparked no recognition of Deeks. He looked through the undercover operative with his ever stoic expression.

"Zapa, please meet resident douche Max Gentry," said Angelo.

"I take it we're meant to be well acquainted," Thapa commented thoughtfully. He still didn't express any sign of ever knowing Deeks.

"Not at all closely," insisted Angelo. "The concept of a street thug and some proud warrior race guy partnering up sounds too buddy action flick for me. But you both will work under me, only in different leagues. I just want everybody to mingle and socialize. We're at a party, after all!"

"Proud warrior race guy." Max scoffed. "Are you taking in Klingons, too, Angelo?"

"You're a wise ass, Max," Angelo responded. "Come on, Zapa. There's better people to introduce you to."

Angelo lead the Gurkha soldier away from the thug, who watched them go flummoxed by what just happened.

" _Are you good, Deeks?"_ Kensi's voice filled up his earwig.

"Yeah," he spoke casually over his shoulder, as though he was speaking to Nate. He turned to Nate at the bar, who was clearly taken aback by Kensi's tone through the comms. But it seemed that the op was not compromised.

Max ordered himself another drink. Nate obliged.

" _Abort,"_ Granger ordered.

"I'm good," Deeks whispered as he took a swig.

" _Thapa could blow your cover at any given moment,"_ Granger argued. _"I'm not taking any chances."_

Deeks held his glass to his lips and whispered, "I don't think he will."

" _You really trust him on this?"_ Kensi said delicately, still sharply keeping Thapa in her sights.

"Yes, we're good," Deeks whispered, still keeping his attention on Nate.

"Is anyone going to explain to me who this Thapa is?" Nate whispered sheepishly.

" _Yeah, later, obviously,"_ Kensi muttered wryly.

Deeks watched Angelo introduce Thapa to some more fashion plate criminals across the lounge by the piano stage. "It'll look suspicious if I leave now," he whispered lowly.

Granger heaved a weary sigh. _"Very well, detective."_

"I hate to admit it, but this party just got interesting," Deeks muttered.

" _Yeah, too interesting,"_ Kensi retorted warily. _Dammit, why the hell is Thapa here?!_ She thought hysterically.

But then the party returned to being dull.

Max mostly kept a low profile, but did some mingling with a few gun runners and pushers he had previous dealings with. Given the dainty atmosphere of the party, seeing all of these scary cartel types present was pretty surreal. And as Angelo promised Max when he gave the invite, brownies were indeed being served. Max supposed he should be glad that he didn't have to bring them. That wouldn't have played into Max's thuggery.

He also didn't lose sight of Thapa. Unlike Kensi, who was suspicious as to why Angelo brought the Gurkha into his fold, Deeks was intrigued. He strongly believed Thapa wouldn't blow his cover. Not after the important bond they'd developed. As unusual as it was, Deeks took his friendship with him to heart. He was however very curious how the Gurkha wound up in Angelo's gang.

As another half hour briskly flew by, an uneasy and impatient tension grew among some of the party guests. They'd grown annoyed by Angelo's bizarre party, and were obviously fuming that they were forced to uncharacteristically wear stuffy suits. Angelo was not being forthcoming about the point of this dubious gathering. There had been no mention of any military equipment that he'd apparently acquired, let alone how he planned to get more.

But then members of a small, well-dressed, yet thuggish looking orchestra conspicuously arrived from the back of the hotel. They assembled around the piano stage with their black cases as Angelo continued his way-too-cheerful mingling. The atmosphere of the party had become restless and slightly unhinged.

Max wondered if some of the street-level party guests were plotting a coup against Angelo.

The odd appearance of the orchestra, with their decidedly inelegant facial tattoos and piercings, made things much weirder.

Clapping his hands loudly together, Angelo ventured toward the small gang orchestra in front of the stage. "Gentleman, I thank you all for coming," he addressed his guests. "I hope you're enjoying those brownies! Now it's time to put the fun on hold for a bit and discuss a little business."

He gestured for the orchestra to open their cases. They swiftly obeyed the unspoken command. Each opened their case revealing a M16A4 assault rifle, a M249 SAW, two M203 grenade launchers and a MK153 bazooka, along with other high caliber delights. And oddly enough a cello.

Max kept his reaction stoic, like a Gurkha warrior.

So these were Angelo's damn weapons!

"So, the rumors are true," observed an elderly mob boss known as Felix, who noticeably sweat through his suit over the course of the party. "You have connections in the military."

"You better believe it, tiger," Angelo gloated with a wide smile. "This is nothing compared to what I have, though. I have tanks, gentleman! TANKS!"

That earned quite the stunned and impressed reaction from the criminals.

Max kept his cool, however, and noticed that Thapa did the same. But that was no surprise. Thapa was practically like Yoda in his demeanor.

"You intend to build the most lethal enterprise in the world," stated the Gurkha.

"Hence this business merger," Angelo said simply. "It's abundantly obvious we all can't be on the winning side."

At this, the mobsters and the arms dealers in the crowd murmured among themselves.

"Yeah, you all should take a moment to discuss my offer," Angelo said pointedly. "But just know that time is of the essence."

As he casually glided away from the faux orchestra players, who still proudly displayed the intimidating lethal weaponry, the flighty mob boss narrowed his beady eyes on Max. He smoothly approached him through the crowd. "How did you like my presentation, Max?"

"It was a little too prop comic for me," Max said frankly. "But you got your point across."

"Of course I did," Angelo said confidently. "Interested in joining my ranks?"

"No, but it obviously has its benefits," said Max.

"I'll take that as a yes," Angelo smugly concluded. "Glad to have you on board."

"I'll be even glader when you start paying me," Max retorted.

"It just so happens I have something for you right now," Angelo claimed. "Come with me."

He placed a giddy hand on Max's shoulder, and lured him out of the party. They quickly passed through the lobby and entered a posh mirrored elevator. From her boat, Kensi lost track of them as they went inside the elevator. She angled her weapon upward, hoping she'd gain a visual through one of the upper floor windows. But which floor?

"This is getting weird, Angelo," Max stated bluntly. "I hope you're giving me my own personalized grenade launchers."

"All in good time, Max," Angelo responded slyly. "Just be patient. Patience is a virtue, y'know."

"I'll leave the virtue to your warrior race guy," Max drawled. "I want a tank!"

Angelo let out an amused laugh. "You are such a bitch, Max."

"Where are you taking me?" Max demanded.

"I got a surprise for you," Angelo exclaimed.

"What? Hookers?" Max guessed.

"You're bored with that smokin' brunette already?" Angelo's brows furrowed.

"I can always incorporate Fern if I want to," claimed Max.

" _Gee, thanks, honey,"_ Kensi snipped.

Due to the two men still being in the elevator, she was forced to wait for them to emerge and hope she could find her partner.

"This is becoming too much for my virgin ears," Angelo quipped.

"I always knew you were lame, Angelo," Max muttered spitefully. "I didn't know you were a eunuch, too." Before Max had even finished speaking, a cocked gun was leveled even to his nose and about an inch away from his face.

"Hey, you watch it!" Angelo warned furiously. "That's not nice! I'm giving you a cushy job, and all I get is mud in the face! I need you to insulate me from this west coast filth. Not shovel it all over my shoes! You badly need to develop a more sensitive sense of decorum."

"You know I don't do sensitive," Max haltingly countered. "And that's why you want me on board. Besides, we still have some trust issues."

"Oh, I'm going to win over your trust now." Angelo smoothly slid his gun back into its concealed holster. He certainly sounded sure of himself.

The elevator took them up to the twentieth floor. With a _ding_ , the doors automatically opened. The two men breezily stepped out and ventured down the immaculate, art deco corridor. The white walls were adorned with an ambiance of modern art and fancy gilded mirrors, coupled with refined end tables with expensive modern sculptures and vases placed on them. Shiny crystal chandeliers hung daintily from the ceilings. It was all glistening clean and elegant, but felt nothing like a home.

"I am well aware you are a jerk," Angelo exclaimed. "But that doesn't mean you are the boss of this outfit."

They stopped in front of room 2012. Angelo quickly unlocked it with a swipe of his hotel key. They stepped inside and Max found that the predictably art deco suite was not occupied. Angelo shut the door behind them.

"Let's cut the crap," Max stated firmly. "Why did you bring me to the bridal suite?"

"Always on point," Angelo said approvingly.

Max didn't bother taking much of the pricey and frilly suite in. His eyes were solely locked on the crazy mobster.

"Max, I've prepared you a dish best served cold."

At that, Max swiftly drew his gun.

"Yeah, you better get out your gun," said an unperturbed Angelo. "This is meant to be your vengeance."

"What do you mean?" growled Max.

Angelo moved to the closet door. "I found a rat for you." He flung it open. A man tumbled out, roughly landing on the tan carpet in a bleeding mess. He was cuffed, gagged and wrapped in what appeared to be gift wrappings. A present for Max. Angelo yanked the tortured man up by his hair so Max could get a better look at him.

The man's face was badly swollen, but Max recognized him at once.

It was Ray.

"I found your traitor," Angelo proclaimed proudly. "I know what you'd like to do with him."

Ray looked at Max hopelessly. His broken, defeated look was unmistakable. He was too helpless to plea for his own life.

Max stared at the beaten man with absolutely no remorse in his cold, emotionless eyes. He aimed his cocked gun at the man's head, while Kensi, through the scope of her own weapon, tried to pinpoint her partner's location.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Tough Guys Don't Die**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 9: TOUGH GUYS DON'T DIE

"I knew this would win you over!" Angelo said delightedly, absolutely ecstatic and giddy at the stellar sight of the ruthless street punk pointing his weapon at the weaselly traitor. He roughly released the tortured man's hair. "Golly, it's going to be hell for the maid to wash Ray's brains off these beautiful..."

He was instantly cut off by a bullet breaking its way through the glass of the window. It barely missed Angelo, cutting a crimson slash across his left ear, spilling little droplets of blood, and drilling a small hole on the far wall.

Angelo and Max dived to the floor when another bullet broke through the window, followed by five more, shattering the glass altogether, and destroying the frilly black and white heart-shaped pillows on the canopy bed. It all happened so fast.

"I don't believe it!" Angelo cried. "Someone's trying to whack me! - Or you -" he accused Max.

"Likely you," Max responded breathlessly. "I'm not the one planning a war."

"This is not the time for banter!" the mobster shouted, distressed.

"You think it's the cops?" Max asked him anxiously.

"Dunno," Angelo admitted, mortified.

Several tense moments passed. No more bullets assaulted the suite. Max suggested, "You better get outta here."

"Yeah, you think!" Angelo heatedly shot at him. "You going to waste Ray?!"

"No, I'm going to smother him with panties," Max sniped.

"NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE A WISE ASS!" Angelo thundered.

"Yes, I'll take him out, but no shooting until we know if this is a raid."

Angelo stared at Max silently.

"Get outta here!" Max shouted at him annoyed.

"I wish I could see you do it," Angelo commented disappointingly, as he frantically crawled towards the door. With cowardly haste, he crawled out of the suite.

Still ducked on the floor, Deeks and Ray stared wordlessly at each other, shocked and wide-eyed.

" _Deeks, are you good?"_ Kensi's voice came to the detective's earwig.

"Yeah, thanks, Kens," he breathed softly.

* * *

Angelo managed to make his way through the hotel's corridors without further incident. Despite how he made his living, he was unaccustomed to being the victim of an assassination attempt. He seldom had to deal with such dramatics.

Though obviously a little shaken, the mobster managed to muster up much of his former composure. (Or what passed for it.) He hastily traveled down the stairwell and avoided walking by windows. Traversing through the lifeless lobby, Angelo found his muscle, Mr. Benedict, leering outside the lounge with his arms folded over his burly chest, closely eyeing the party guests. They all still seemed to be a bit stunned by the offbeat weapons demonstration.

"Mr. Benedict," Angelo whispered urgently, still clutching his mildly injured ear. "Someone just made an attempt on my life."

"Really?" The meat-headed goon merely raised a brow. "Who?"

"I don't know," Angelo answered harshly in a whisper. "It was a sniper! It happened when Max was about to ice Ray. I've been waiting all week for that! I mean, how inconsiderate is this jackass!? Raining on my fun so rudely!"

"There's no common courtesy in this world any more," Benedict stated sardonically.

"Yeah, I know," Angelo agreed.

"Do you think it's someone from the party?" Benedict asked him.

"I don't know, smart guy! I wasn't down here watching the guests!" Angelo fumed.

A light _ding_ came from one of the nearby elevators as it automatically opened its doors. Max emerged, dragging a large heavy suitcase.

"Welcome back, Max," Angelo greeted gladly. He narrowed his gaunt eyes at the suitcase. "What you got in there?"

"Your present for me," Max drawled.

"Oh, let me take a quick peek."

Max allowed the nutty, depraved mobster to peek inside the suitcase he'd found in the closet of the suite. Angelo looked like a naughty kid sneaking a peek inside a forbidden Christmas present. He only unzipped the suitcase a teeny bit. Through the little opening gap he spotted a stuffed dead man inside. A dead Ray, smothered in gift wrappings.

"I'm so glad you resolved your issues with the past," Angelo told Max proudly.

"I have no idea who our sniper was," Max reported. "There were at least thirty boats in view of your window. But if this were cops, they'd be beaten down doors by now. Probably some small fry felt snubbed for not getting an invite. Speaking of, where's Warrior Race Guy?"

"Keeping an eye on the goods," Angelo explained. "Some of our less reputable guests got sticky fingers. So I'm left with palokas and coast trash."

"Whatcha gonna do?" Max chuckled. "Good help is hard to find. Here's hoping your next 'paloka' has better hygiene." He condescendingly poked Mr. Benedict's bulging chest. "This one smells worse than Ray."

It was Angelo's turn to chuckle.

"You know where I can chunk this?" Max asked blandly.

"Down the garbage chute," said Angelo. "You'll find it in the back."

Without saying a word, Max headed for the back of the hotel, dragging the heavy suitcase.

Angelo returned his attention to Mr. Benedict. "Figure out what happened up there. Or the next time I see shattered glass, you'll be falling through it."

* * *

With a loud graceless thud, the suitcase made a rough landing in a large, mostly filled up dumpster in the hotel's dark, sinister parking garage.

Inside, Ray tried not to yell out from the excruciating pain. He understood that Marty had to think fast, and stuffing him in this cramped suitcase was pretty much the only option. The former criminal knew that Angelo left the suitcase in the closet so Max could hide his dead body inside. Ray didn't mind playing dead for Angelo. He'd faked his own death before. But this suitcase was unbearable. He had to fold his legs in a very unnatural position, and the gift wrappings restraining him made it all the more stifling. He wasn't exactly a small guy. What did Marty think he was, some damn contortionist?

Outside, someone firmly grabbed hold of the suitcase and dragged it out of the dumpster.

Ray's heart sank. Did he escape only to get nabbed by one of Angelo's men?

The suitcase made another rough landing, this time on a hard cement surface. Ray was too terrified to even make a peep. The suitcase was swiftly unzipped and fully opened. Ray found himself blearily glancing up at a bald man with a long leathery face, wearing a tan suit.

"Ray Martindale," he said in a gravelly voice. "Assistant Director Granger of NCIS. You're coming with me."

Ray was dumbfounded. He wondered if his torture had finally caused him to go delirious. His rescuer had such a droopy face. Did Marty send out some sort of human bloodhound to save him?

* * *

Granger safely snuck Ray to the boatshed with the aid of two medics; one a Hispanic male, the other a white female with short blonde hair. They quietly tended to his bleeding wounds.

Ray sat wincing on one of the lounging chairs as Granger sat watchfully at the table. Hetty loomed on the monitor, perched at her desk in her office at the mission. She and Granger just finished listening to the beaten man's harrowing tale.

"Angelo sadistically wrapped you in gift wrappings to morbidly surprise Mr. Deeks," Hetty recounted somberly. "That sounds somewhat like what happened to Jimmy Cagney at the end of _The_ _Public_ _Enemy."_

"Yeah, but I'm out of the crime biz," Ray hissed testily.

"We need to get him to a hospital," the female medic spoke up urgently.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Ray snapped.

Kensi arrived, still in her black shirt and shorts. She looked as though she'd just returned from a pleasant sail.

"Hey, Wikipedia," Ray greeted her. "I was told you were the one that shot me and Marty's bacon out of the frying pan. That's an interesting diversion if there ever was one."

"I'm a trained shooter," Kensi explained modestly. "I studied the layout of the hotel thoroughly. When Deeks mentioned the bridal suite, I knew where to lock in. I'd never allow any harm to come to you or my partner."

"Even so, I'll go out of my way not to piss you off in the future," Ray said lightly.

"It's good to see you again, Ray," Kensi told him earnestly in a small smile. "I wish it was under better circumstances."

"You and me both," Ray said miserably. "Where's Marty?"

"I'm here." Deeks came in behind Kensi, garbed in Max Gentry's street clothes and leather jacket. He was glad to ditch that lame turtleneck.

"The Calvary arrived a bit late, Marty," Ray sniped.

"Maybe," said Deeks. "But we got you out of there, brother. It's over now."

"Oh, it's far from over," Ray stated fiercely, his eyes dark. "That bastard's got my wife and kid!"

"What?" Deeks' face was stark white.

"Angelo somehow tracked Ray's family in Oregon," Granger filled in soberly. "He had them abducted. We don't know where Ray's wife and daughter are."

Deeks' heart sank. Daughter? Ray and Jenna had a little girl?

"They're alive, man!" Ray spat at the Assistant Director savagely. "Angelo has them hidden someplace. I can feel it!"

"Mr. Martindale, we're doing everything within our power to find your wife and daughter," Hetty said placidly. "We have a good track record in locating and rescuing missing persons, especially children."

"Yeah, that goes for me, too," Deeks declared determinedly to his childhood friend. "I'll kill Angelo myself to find them if I have to."

"Detective, let's not forget that Angelo is our sole link to the traitor or traitors in our own ranks selling all of us out," Granger interjected. "It's rumored that he has tanks of all things."

"Really?" Ray responded gruffly. "Well – it sounds like Angelo wants to make the old Southland Kings look like total cheesecake by comparison."

Deeks shut his eyes. That seemed to be the understatement of the year. The Southland Kings were what drove Ray to disappear from Los Angeles to begin with.

"He had a real serious and flashy weapons demonstration today," Kensi filled Ray in.

"It sounds like you guys have your hands full," muttered Ray.

"Yeah, but we'll get your wife and daughter back," Deeks vowed.

"You'll have to beat me to him if you want to kill Angelo, Marty," Ray countered seriously. "I'm not kidding. I'd make a deal with the damn devil to get my girls back!"

* * *

As the California sun sank over the serene horizon of the wavy sea, Kensi sat alone, numbly on the leather couch, curling her smooth bare legs up beneath her. She was at the cover beach house. The red and blue neon blinked on and off from the dingy walls. She hadn't changed out of her black shirt and shorts.

Hearing what Ray had been through tore her heart to pieces. She had investigated countless abduction cases, but this one was especially hurtful. Even though Kensi had only known Ray for a short time, she'd always liked him. He was a good friend to Deeks. He didn't deserve to be heartlessly kidnapped, tortured and lose his wife and child. No, not lose – separated. Kensi refused to think of the worse.

Four years earlier, Deeks was hellbent to help Ray find his redemption and live the remainder of his life as a happy family man. To give his daughter something better than his own father gave him. Deeks had pulled through for his friend. But Ray's extensive criminal past had sadly caught up with him.

Kensi knew Deeks would blame himself even though it wasn't his fault. She also knew Deeks would take great issue with the fact that Ray was tortured, a pain and trauma that she and her partner had both experienced. Ray was now begrudgingly at a hospital under protective custody.

The sound of the front door creaking open snapped the Special Agent from her heart-wrenching thoughts.

Deeks returned to her. Judging by the horrible, guilt-ridden look on his face, Kensi's earlier assumption about how he would take Ray's plight turned out to be painfully correct.

As he shut the door, Kensi realized a brown paper bag with their dinner inside sat on the coffee table. She'd bought it earlier from a food truck and forgot all about it. She quietly grabbed it and said gently, "Hey, baby, I got us some fish tacos."

Deeks didn't say anything. He slumped down next to her on the couch, utterly broken and emotionally drained. Kensi sat the bag aside and lovingly pulled him into a hug. She held him in her arms silently, as the sun sank further down outside the beach house.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Visitor**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

 **A/N: This chapter contain some intense violence that might be too disturbing for some readers**

* * *

CHAPTER 10: THE VISITOR

Kensi blinked opened her groggy eyes, finding herself alone in bed at the cover beach house. Dawn was wanly streaming through the bedroom window, overlooking the peaceful beach and the soothing ocean.

The red neon mudflap girl lit the room like an overgrown blinking nightlight. Kensi had to inwardly admit that she sometimes had difficulty sleeping under that infuriating blinking hussy. She consulted the also glowing digital clock across the room. It was almost 6:30am.

Deeks was out of bed and already dressed. He looked ready to leave. Kensi alertly sat up, sporting a black tank top, her lap covered in sheets. "Hey, where you heading to this early?"

Deeks looked at her, surprised that she was awake. "I was going to scribble you a note," he sheepishly tried to assure her.

"You don't need to," Kensi countered. "Where are you going?"

"I just got a text from Granger," Deeks explained. "He wants to see me at the boatshed."

"I'm coming with you." Kensi moved to get out of bed, but Deeks halted her. "No, he specifically texted that he wants to see me alone."

"I'm coming anyway," Kensi argued stubbornly. "I'm not afraid of Granger."

"I can handle Granger." Deeks found himself in awe of her feisty devotion to him. He stretched out a smile, something he hadn't done since that nightmare with Ray the previous day. "Besides, there's something I want you to do for me."

"What?"

"Check in on Ray," Deeks murmured.

"Yeah, sure," Kensi replied gently with a nod.

"Thanks." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll catch you later."

Kensi reluctantly watched him go, loathing that he had to face whatever Granger was going to lay on him without her. But she was also honored and humbled that he trusted her to check in on his closest childhood friend.

* * *

The morning sun brightly glared off the water of the choppy ocean by the time Deeks arrived at the boatshed. The detective steadily grew more nervous. That old unsettling feeling like he was about to step inside the principle's office suddenly resurfaced. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside. He was a little relieved to find just Granger alone, waiting for him at the table. For a moment, Deeks had worried that Bates would be present as well.

"Sit down," the Assistant Director ordered the liaison in his signature gravelly manner.

"Good morning to you, too, sir," Deeks commented lightly, taking his seat across from the Assistant Director.

Granger stared at Deeks with characteristic seriousness. "Detective, the op at the Vista got intense."

"I admit it was heavy, but everything is still smooth," said Deeks.

"Maybe so, but the unexpected involvement of Ray Martindale has thrown you off guard," stressed Granger.

"It hasn't thrown me off guard," Deeks denied. "My cover is still intact, and I'm now in Angelo's circle."

"Maybe," said Granger. "But the distressing situation with Martindale, combined with your personal relationship with Agent Blye..."

"Hey, me and Kensi still gel as partners," Deeks cut him off defensively. "We went out of our way to prove that, and it hasn't compromised the op."

"I think you've grown too emotionally involved with this case," Granger stated flatly.

"I want to get Ray's wife and daughter back," Deeks admitted.

"We don't know if they're even alive, detective," Granger countered gravely.

"I don't want to believe..." Deeks shook his head, running a hand through his shaggy locks. "Do you want Ray to get his family back?"

"I do," Granger answered.

"Then we're all on the same page," declared Deeks.

"I want to get Martindale's family back because it's my job. The duty I've chosen. You're desperate to help your friend. There is a difference; it's called perspective," argued Granger.

Deeks shot him a deep look.

"What?" Granger was confused by the look.

"Are you expressing concern for me?" Deeks looked at him curiously. "I mean, real actual concern. You? Granger-Danger?"

"I won't allow this op to be compromised," Granger stated in a no-nonsense tone. "And don't get cute. I'm not growing soft on you."

"You're showing in your own crusty way that you care," Deeks persisted. "I've seen it before. You actually warned me when Bates found out about me and Kensi."

"You think I approve of you and Blye?" Granger asked bluntly.

"You're not interfering with our relationship," Deeks pointed out.

"That does not mean that I like seeing fraternization on a clandestine team whose chief function is protecting lives," said Granger.

"But you know Don Blye's daughter deserves happiness," countered Deeks.

Even though the detective used his old friend to make his point, Granger wouldn't take the bait. "I don't want your emotions clouding your judgment."

"I was heavily involved with this case before Ray popped up," Deeks reminded. "I intend to see it through. You _need_ me to see this through to the end."

"Okay, detective." Granger didn't look at him fully.

"There's one thing I do want to talk about," said Deeks. "Do we know why Thapa's here?"

"Not yet," Granger answered. "But we will."

"I will provide that answer myself, sahib."

Granger and Deeks shot their surprised gazes across the room to the door. Thapa had snuck his way inside the boatshed like a skilled – well – Gurkha.

* * *

Kensi peered through the glass door of Ray's sparse hospital room. The battered man himself laid on an adjustable bed in his drab hospital gown, sulking. His wounds had been cleaned up, but his face and arms were marked by severe cuts and bruises. He spotted Kensi through the transparent door.

She stepped inside. "Hey." She graced him with a smile.

"Hey," Ray returned. "Marty sent you to check up on me." He said that very knowingly.

Kensi didn't know what to say. She stood guiltily with her back pressed against the now shut door.

"It's okay," Ray assured her. "I promise that's not a jab at you. For better or worse, I just really know Marty." He gave her a reassuring grin.

Kensi released a little sigh, relieved that he wasn't irritated by her unexpected presence. With this assurance, she planted herself on the chair next to his bed.

"I know you're very important to him," Ray told her. "He wouldn't just send anyone to check up on me."

"Not even his own partner?" Kensi raised a questioning brow.

"I'm not blind." Ray chuckled with a slight grimace. "You two obviously have a thing. I picked that up the last time I was here in LA."

Kensi formed an amused smile on her lips. At the time, she thought it was hysterical that Ray was so confident, to the point of clairvoyance, that she and Deeks were destined to be together. A notion Deeks himself was perturbed by. Of course, in hindsight, Ray deserved to let out the last laugh.

"That smile just confirmed everything I suspected." He pointed a light accusing finger at her. "Marty is totally your guy."

Kensi continued smiling despite herself. A smile reading that she was happy. "You should be the detective." She smirked.

"When did it finally become serious?" Ray pressed her eagerly.

"We – realized our feelings for each other last year." Kensi felt hesitant. She'd never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve. But Ray deserved to know how his best friend finally achieved real actual love in his life. "We got separated because of an op. We were both tortured."

Ray gasped, but Kensi went on. "It's okay, we helped each other. We officially went 'all in' last Christmas."

"Really? Just last Christmas?" Ray's good mood dissipated.

"Ray?" Kensi grew concerned by this sudden mood swing.

"That's when Jenna and Carrie were taken." He absently rubbed his bruised face, tears stinging his eyes.

Kensi comfortingly patted the back of his hand. "Ray, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "God, this happened to you on Christmas?"

"That gorgon lady said you guys have a good track record rescuing kidnapped people?" Ray croaked.

"Yes," Kensi said gently. "Do you remember our partner Sam Hanna?"

"That big guy that hangs with the snarky buzz-cut guy?"

"Yeah, and that's his partner, Callen," Kensi explained. "Anyway, just a few months ago, a little girl Sam was close to was kidnapped along with her father. They were held captive. Sam was hellbent on finding them alive, and he did. I promise we'll do the same for Jenna and your daughter."

"I'm not going to sit uselessly by." Ray seethed. "I'm going to search for Jenna and Carrie, too. With or without you guys!"

"Your daughter's named Carrie?" Kensi found herself uttering.

"Carrie's my baby," Ray murmured brokenly.

"You need to get well for her and Jenna's sake," Kensi implored him.

"I can multitask," Ray bullheadedly insisted.

Knowing it was clearly pointless to argue the issue with him, Kensi decided to instead inform him of the most useful factor of the investigation. "We have the world's best tech team. I have total confidence they'll locate where Angelo is holding Jenna and Carrie."

"Who are these tech people?" Ray asked.

"Eric and Nell," Kensi replied. "They're total wizards when it comes to the internet. They're geniuses when it comes to hacking and data analysis. In fact, Eric broke the internet once!"

"You guys were behind that debacle?" Ray was gobsmacked. "I heard that was Russia!"

"Yeah." Kensi smiled wistfully at the memory.

"You think your nerds will find my wife and kid?"

"Definitely."

"Marty has clearly joined The Avengers," Ray quipped with a scoff.

"We're good at what we do," murmured Kensi.

"I hope it'll get Jenna and Carrie back." Ray angrily rubbed more tears from his stinging eyes.

Kensi tenderly squeezed his hand.

Ray pushed his sorrows aside and adopted an optimistic outlook. "Hey, have you ever met Marty's Mom Roberta?"

"No, but he's hoping to have her moved back here, soon," Kensi informed him. "His Dad's old friends aren't around to harass her anymore."

"Good." Ray was pleased to hear that. "Has Marty met your parents?"

"My Mom," answered Kensi. "She's babysitting his dog Monty while we work."

"Proof positive that you guys are serious," Ray gloated. "Your Mom's babysitting his dog." He found that incredibly humorous.

"It's a unique situation," Kensi admitted awkwardly. "My Mom's not used to taking care of a dog. We've never had one, let alone one with PTSD. But Monty seems to be growing on her. Or so she says."

"I always knew you were right for Marty," Ray said sincerely. "I know you'll take care of him."

"Hell, yeah," Kensi responded absolutely.

* * *

Deeks stared at Thapa in open amazement as the Gurkha quietly seated himself next to the detective. He wore his standard jeans and windbreaker. He was glad to be rid of his turtleneck, too.

"You gave me a hell of a surprise yesterday, brother," Deeks told him in a complimentary tone.

"And you surprised me as well," Thapa returned with just as much respect.

"Well, Thapa, why's a nice guy like you hanging out with a psycho like Angelo?" Deeks questioned.

"He hired me," Thapa explained. "He wants me to watch over his weapons."

"Why are you really here?" Granger pressed dryly.

"I'm investigating Gurkhas who are inexplicably selling their honor to this Angelo," Thapa softly filled in.

"Sounds a little like our situation," Granger grumbled.

"Why's a nice lawman like you investigating a psycho like Angelo?" Thapa inquired of Deeks.

"We're trying to find out who's giving him his weapons," Deeks explained.

"I thought that could be it," said Thapa.

"You have access to Angelo's weapons?" Granger asked the Gurkha pointedly.

"Yes." Thapa nodded. "But only the ones he has on hand, and only under tight supervision. Like most cowards, he trusts no one."

"Will you help us get access to what you can?" Granger further pressed.

"Of course," Thapa replied with no hesitation. He trailed his gaze over to Deeks. "I came to speak with you, sahib. There's something I must tell you."

"What?"

"I overheard Angelo talking last night," explained Thapa. "He's having his man look into you. He is perhaps searching for signs of disloyalty?"

"Figures." Deeks snorted.

"Angelo also called you 'paloka' and 'coast trash'," Thapa continued. "I don't understand what that means."

"I doubt Angelo knows that paloka isn't even a word." Deeks shrugged.

"I fear you'll soon face danger," Thapa said in great concern. "You and your partner."

"Thanks for letting me know, brother." Deeks appreciatively patted his friend's back. "Me and Kensi know the risks. We've got this covered."

His smart phone made a familiar tingling noise. Deeks received a text from the devil himself. _Bridal suite!_ _Now!_ It read.

"Angelo wants to see me," said Deeks.

Thapa received the same message on his phone. "He also wishes to see me."

"I guess we're off to see the psychotic wizard," Deeks drawled as he got up from his chair.

When he reached the end of the room, he made a quick phone call. "Kens, I just met up with Thapa. He's on our team."

" _Good_ ," said Kensi's voice on the other end. _"Not that you had any doubt."_

"I always knew he was cool," said Deeks. "Listen, Thapa just told me that Angelo is looking into Max. He's likely looking into Fern, too."

" _I'll_ _keep_ _vigilant_ ," Kensi instantly responded.

"That's my girl," said Deeks proudly. "I'm seeing Angelo at the Vista's bullet-riddled bridal suite. Thapa's gonna be there, too."

" _Okay, I'll catch up with you."_

"Okay." He ended the call.

* * *

At the cover beach house, Kensi, dressed in Fern's purple tank top and trendy tattered jeans, arrived at the squalid residence. She parked Fern's tacky purple Cadillac Convertible. Briskly getting out of the car, she headed for the beach house. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. She needed to grab her sniper rifle and some backup weapons.

The living room was desolate and silent. The only noise came from the crashing waves from the ocean out back.

Kensi went to the bedroom closet to collect the case containing her trusty sniper rifle. It was hidden in a secret compartment under the floor boards. She also grabbed her old revolver. As she returned to the living room, she absentmindedly gazed into the kitchen. Something alarming caught her eye. The grimy sliding glass door was opened. She set her case aside and drew her revolver. She and Deeks never left any of the doors open or unlocked.

She heard a creak on the floor. She swiftly pointed her weapon at a man exiting the bathroom. He was a large, burly man. Mr. Benedict, Angelo's muscle.

Kensi lowered her gun. "Oh, you scared me," she exclaimed in Fern's bubbly voice. "I've seen you before. You're with that Angelo dude, right?"

"I work with him," Benedict confirmed.

"If you're looking for Max, he's not here. He's at a meeting with Angelo."

"I know Angelo's schedule." Benedict eyed her revolver. "You shouldn't be playing with that. It's not safe for little girls."

"I'm not a little girl." She raised her weapon again, her tone even. "Why the hell are you here?"

"You and Max got an impressive arsenal." He eyed the case on the floor. "I've been rummaging through your stuff."

"Then you have found that me and Max are fine outstanding citizens," Fern said sardonically.

"Obviously." Benedict snorted. "Is that a sniper rifle? I didn't know you even had one. Didn't see it anywhere."

"Why do you care?" Fern merely shrugged, still aiming the revolver at him.

"Put that thing down, doll face." Benedict sharply slapped the revolver out of her grasp, sending it sliding across the chipped laminate floor. "It's making you look ridiculous."

Fern kicked him hard on the shin, causing him to grimace.

"Who the hell do you think you are!?" She sneered at him.

Benedict pressed his massive hands to her slender shoulders. He roughly shoved her against a neon sign on the wall, smashing it. He pinned her there. "Listen, babe," he snarled. "You got a sniper rifle on you and I want to know why!"

"Me and Max are outlaws, honey," Fern shot at him flirtatiously. "Like Bonnie and Clyde."

"You and Max don't rob banks." He wrapped his meaty hands around her delicate neck.

"How do you know!" Fern countered, undeterred by his throttling. "People like us always pack heat! Doesn't Angelo?"

"Someone tried to take him out yesterday during his banquet," Benedict growled. "A sniper."

"What?" Kensi feigned bewilderment.

"We think it's someone close," Benedict hissed. "Someone like Max."

"What?" Fern repeated with a girlie giggle. "You think Max wants to waste Angelo?"

"They're not exactly bosom buddies!" Benedict sniped. "And lo and behold, you guys have a sniper rifle in your crappy love shack. Now, tell me, you guys cooking up a little backstabbing entree here that I need to know about?"

"Look, man, I'm not in on Angelo's business," Fern told him heatedly. "I don't know what he's up to. Max doesn't talk to me about him. We got better stuff to do."

"Angelo has brought to my attention that you have some serious skills," Benedict barked. "You're not just some slut screwing Max. But I have to say, since you're cowering beneath me, I'm not impressed."

Fern shot him a death glare. She intended to kick him brutally between the legs, but he slammed her harder against the razor sharp shards of the neon sign still hanging from the wall, pinning her even tighter. "Stop dancing around! Did you and Max try to pull a hit on Angelo?"

"I told you I'm not in Angelo's business!" Fern snapped.

"I did some digging, and you were gone yesterday," Benedict drawled cockily. "You were nowhere to be seen."

"I have my own business," Fern hissed.

"I bet," Benedict mocked. "The business of wasting people." He slapped her hard across the face, knocking her senseless. "I'm not stupid! Max clearly has it out for Angelo! I need you to send a message to him." He violently tossed her over the couch, sending her crash landing on top of the coffee table, smashing it on impact. "The message being your mangled, dead body."

Benedict confidently approached his seemingly unconscious victim. Towering over her, he tried to grab hold of her neck again, but Fern stabbed between his index and middle knuckle with the knife she'd swiftly pulled from the back of her jeans. The knife that was lovingly handed down by Don Blye. The sayoc blade sliced through his entire hand, all the way to his wrist. It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Benedict screamed shrilly as he tried to pull it out.

While he was distracted, Fern dived after her revolver on the floor. Pulling the knife out of his bloodied hand, Benedict stumbled after Fern with the slick blade still in his grasp. He wrestled with her, trying to stab her. But Fern was faster, quickly rolling on her back, pressing her revolver straight to his beefy face. She let out three shots – she blew the thug's brains out. The bloody knife dropped to the floor next to her. Benedict fell dead on top of her.

Kensi frantically pushed the heavy corpse off of her. She slowly climbed to her feet. Severe flashes of Afghanistan attacked her. Vivid flashes of Taliban thugs as they beat her to a bloody pulp. Kensi noticed her father's knife soaked in Benedict's blood. The dark memory of a barbaric terrorist with a machete assaulted her.

… _We sawed them slowly..._

Kensi shook away the hellish memories. She calmly collected her father's knife.

At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to call Deeks and have him cradle her safely in his arms. But she couldn't do that. Their op was on going. They still had a job to do.

She decided that she must see Angelo herself. He must know she was not to be trifled with.

* * *

Max showed up at the Vista's bridal suite, begrudgingly obeying Angelo's summons. Thapa arrived ahead of him. Since Angelo valued the Gurkha over Max, it was sensible for Thapa to try and remain in the mobster's good graces.

Angelo assembled a little meeting in his large, bullet-riddled suite. A motley collection of mob bosses and arms dealers were present. Many of the same people who attended the banquet. None of them wore stuffy suits this time around. Various weapon cases were laid out on the canopy bed. Max noted that the heart-shaped pillows that Kensalina blasted were now absent. It helped to leave more space for the weapons.

Max joined the other criminals at the center of the suite. He looked levelly at Angelo, who sat in the cozy breakfast nook. His left ear was bandaged up, but his pale eyes were sharp as ever.

"Weird that you want to meet here of all places," Max remarked.

Word got out fast of the attempted hit on Angelo. The mob boss scoffed at Max's 'concern.' "Max, I got a business to run, and this is my turf. I'm not letting anyone steamroll me."

"That's either really badass or blindly stupid," muttered Max.

"It's the former," insisted Angelo. "Now, enough with the yackity yack. Let's get this meeting started."

"So far, I'll at least give you a point for not forcing me to wear a turtleneck," Max drawled.

Angelo sternly ignored the snippy quip and began his meeting. "All right, listen. I called you all here to let you know that I trust every single one of you. Together, I know we can't be matched. With the hardware I have at my disposal, and the manpower and connections you distinguished fellows bring to the table, we'll be a force to be reckoned with. I appreciate all of you for being my allies in this great endeavor. So, I come bearing humble gifts. They lay before you on the bed."

Surprised, Max and the other criminals came up to the weapon-laden bed. Thapa, however, stayed put standing by the breakfast nook near Angelo.

The criminals latched opened their respective cases. "You're giving out grenade launchers?" spoke the mob boss Felix.

"My gift to you, Felix." Angelo smiled broadly.

"This must've cost you a pretty penny." Felix closely inspected his gifted weapon.

Angelo snorted. "Oh, please! I'm rolling in artillery! This is like giving away candy."

The criminals gawked at him.

"You have impressive military connections," Thapa chimed in.

"That's been established." Angelo scoffed in a bored tone.

Max was occupied inspecting his new weapon, testing how to load it.

A knock came from the door.

"Are you expecting anyone else?" Felix queried Angelo.

"No," said Angelo. "Go see who it is, Zapa."

"Thapa," the Gurkha corrected automatically.

"Yeah, Thapa," Angelo said a little jittery.

Thapa crossed to the door. He looked through the peep hole with a puzzled frown. He hesitantly unlocked the door.

Fern Corelli brazenly barged in. She was covered in cuts and bruises and was clearly beaten up, but she carried herself in a peculiar nonchalant way. She spotted Max by the bed, holding his grenade launcher. She casually stride over to him. "Hey, baby, what you got there?"

"Grenade launcher," drawled Max. "What the hell happened to you?" He eyed her cuts and bruises.

"Angelo's goon roughed me up," Fern explained heatedly. "He tried to kill me, so I gave him a manicure and made him eat lead."

Angelo, however, was genuinely shocked by her claim. "Francesca, Mr. Benedict laid his hands on you?"

"Don't buy his bullcrap!" Fern spat at Max. "Angelo thinks you're planning a hit on him, so he sent his bitch to kill me to send you a message."

Max harshly glared at the mobster. "So, there's no trust issues between us, huh?"

"Max, I'm just as shocked as you are!" Angelo stammered. "I-I would never order the murder of such a lovely creature."

"I'm pissed, honey," Fern told Max angrily. She gazed at his grenade launcher. "Can I look at this for a sec?"

"Sure, but it's loaded." He indifferently handed her the grenade launcher. With hostile rage lighting her two-toned eyes, she swung the weapon around on the mob boss. The criminals and Thapa watched on, shocked and nervous.

"Whoa – whoa!" Angelo frantically raised his hands. "Francesca, wait! I don't blame you for being angry. I mean, I'm upset, too. But let's not lose our heads. That weapon can cause serious damage, maybe to you, too."

"I like blowing stuff up," Fern said in her bubbly voice. "All you business crooks know how to run like bats out of hell?"

The obviously terrified criminals took that as their cue to bolt out of the suite. Thapa, on the other hand, decided to watch what was going on with the fiery brunette.

"Max, call her off!" Angelo begged hysterically. "This is getting nuts."

"You want to send me a message?" Max coolly demanded of the mobster, folding his arms.

"I did want to know if you were loyal." Angelo looked like he was about to wet his pants. "But I never wanted anyone hurt."

"So, we still have trust issues," Max concluded. "Okay, waste him, baby."

Angelo's eyes bulged as Fern locked the grenade launcher on him, ready to fire.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Fern's Stance**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 11: FERN'S STANCE

Fern was set to fire the spanking new grenade launcher at Vincent Angelo. The mobster stared death right in the face. "I-I got a proposition for you!" he stammered, frightened.

"Not for any price," Fern growled.

"No, no, nothing like that," Angelo said panicked. "I want you to work for me."

"Really?" Fern scoffed disbelievingly. "What do you think I'm going to do? Work as your secretary?"

"No, that's too boring for you." Angelo grew relaxed.

"You're right." Fern tightened her grip on the weapon, but Angelo remained calm.

"I want you to have my back. I want you to take Mr. Benedict's place at my side."

"What?" Fern narrowed her intensely dark eyes.

"You effortlessly disarmed Mr. Gecko," Angelo reminded her. "And Mr. Benedict went way off the reservation. I only want the best people in this outfit. You're clearly one of the best."

"But you're a sexist asshole," Fern retorted spitefully.

"Hey, just because I called you a hot little pistol and thought you looked smokin' in that teeny black bikini, doesn't mean I'm a pig," Angelo said defensively.

"Just a dirty old perv," Fern countered.

"Hey, I can do progressive. I'm all for having gorgeous, kickass women protecting me." Angelo shrugged. "Besides, I'll make it worth your while."

Fern slightly lowered the weapon. "I'm listening."

"You'll receive ample pay, of course, plus a free trip to Catalina."

"A trip to Catalina would be exotic," Max piped up. "If you were a Midwesterner."

"Max, you desperately need to get in touch with your romantic side," Angelo lightly scolded.

"I don't do the whole love thing," Max stated. "Me and Fern do our own thing."

"That's hip, I guess." Angelo didn't really know how to react to that. "But Catalina is not all fun and games. Big business is going down over there." He stared confidently at Fern. "So, how about it, kiddo? Do you have my back?"

"Can I keep this bigass gun?" Fern asked.

"Absolutely!"

"Will you stop hassling me and Max?" Fern pressed pointedly.

"I'm sure we can work something out." Angelo nodded.

"You got yourself a deal," said Fern. "But if you or any of your thugs ever lay a finger on me again, you're all toast."

"I'm just as shocked and appalled by Mr. Benedict's actions as you are," Angelo said sincerely. "I apologize."

Fern grudgingly handed the weapon over to her boyfriend. As Max packed the M203 grenade launcher into its case, he bluntly told Angelo, "Since you're letting Fern have this one, you better give me something nicer next time. I'm talking Gatling guns, here. I'm not much for sharing"

"That won't be a problem, Max," Angelo said serenely. "Like I said, I'm rolling in the stuff."

* * *

Deeks and Kensi left the mobster's suite side by side. Kensi carried the case with the dangerous weapon secured inside. They wordlessly passed by the stoic Thapa, who was quickly rushing to the still rattled Angelo.

The partners exited the building from the back. Deeks assumed it was the way Kensi came in, so as not to draw attention to herself because of her battered appearance. But that didn't protect them from random wandering hotel guests, who gaped in shock at how beaten up Kensi obviously was. The two ignored the passerbys.

Once they cleared the building, they each swiftly climbed inside their respective vehicles.

Deeks drove Max's Mustang, his face a scruffy granite mask. The last time he saw Kensi like this was after the team rescued her in Afghanistan. It enraged him to see her like that. It was devastating. Worse was that he couldn't even hold her. Max Gentry wasn't exactly warm and supportive with his girlfriends.

But like the kickass agent she was, Kensi turned the disastrous situation to her advantage. She expertly inserted herself into Angelo's criminal circle.

But the detective bitterly cursed himself for failing to protect her. Especially since Thapa specifically warned him that Angelo was looking into Max. He knew what they did for a living was dangerous. How could he have so carelessly brushed aside Thapa's well intention warning?

It was all the more sobering when he saw the damage at the cover beach house. A broken neon sign hung uselessly on the wall, the smashed coffee table laid in pieces, and a dark pool of blood soaked the laminate floor. The only thing missing was the mangled body.

The OPS team already took it to the morgue. Angelo and his ilk would be lead to believe that Max and Fern disposed of it themselves. The beach house couldn't be a proper crime scene. They must maintain cover.

Deeks found Kensi gazing down at the pool of blood with the blankest of stares. Finally, he warmly embraced her. They stood there holding each other in total silence.

* * *

For the next few hours, Kensi and Deeks cleaned up the living room. They mopped up the blood from the floor and disposed of the broken coffee table and neon sign. They also inspected the house just in case Benedict planted any bugs. They didn't find any. Deeks wanted his girl to take it easy and lay down, but Kensi needed these chores. She needed to keep her mind busy. But once all the foul evidence of Benedict's presence was cleansed away, Kensi had nothing to keep her mind occupied.

Deeks was bound and determined to console her. He knew she could take care of herself, but it killed him that he wasn't here to protect her. To help her take care of that sick bastard. He prepared a warm bubble bath for her. Kensi finally relented and soaked her beaten and sore body in the deep tub. She rested in the silky, soothing water, her naked body obscured by thick bubbles. Deeks, still fully clothed, sat loyally beside the tub on the cheap tile floor, tenderly holding her hand. They gazed silently at each other.

The horrified guilt veiling his piercing eyes seeped through her.

"This wasn't your fault," she tried to assure him. "Don't blame yourself."

"Thapa warned me," Deeks murmured guiltily. "He overheard Angelo talking to Benedict. I should've seen this coming."

"I should've seen it coming, too," Kensi said softly. "You did warn me and I took care of it. The op wasn't compromised. I'm in Angelo's gang now. It's better for both of us if we take him down together."

"You're my lady ninja assassin." He squeezed her hand affectionately. Just because he was worried didn't mean he wasn't proud of her. But he was still worried. "Baby, you gotta talk to me," he implored her. "You really got hurt bad. What happened here?" His voice was so gentle and the feel of his hand on hers was so loving and comforting. "Did it bring back memories of Afghanistan?"

Kensi slid her gaze down to the steaming bath water. Deeks could always read her like a book. She knew she should just open herself up to him. Even the dark horrific stuff. He was the love of her life. Someone she could truly trust. But after spending years closing off her heart from everyone, it was challenging to break the habit. But since Christmas, she'd decided to finally write a much needed new chapter in her button-down life.

"I had flashes of Afghanistan," she admitted heavily.

Deeks listened to her intently, still clutching her hand.

"He slammed me against a wall, slapped me around, threw me over the couch, I landed on the coffee table. He downright gloated that he was going to kill me." She reluctantly took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the scented bath water. She continued. "So, I mutilated his hand with my father's knife, and dove after my revolver that he'd knocked to the floor. He tried to stab me. I shot him three times in the head."

Deeks tenderly trailed circles on her knuckle.

"After that, flashes of Afghanistan attacked me," Kensi confessed. "One of them wanted to decapitate me."

"My God," Deeks whispered.

"I – wanted you to hold me," she uttered.

He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. She finally got what she craved. Kensi badly needed Deeks to open up. "Okay, your turn."

"My turn for what?" A confused frown creased his brow.

"When you saw what happened to Ray, you shut yourself off a little," Kensi told him.

Deeks glanced down at their clasped hands.

"Did it bring back any of your own torture?" she gently prodded him.

"Maybe it did," Deeks whispered. "It was rough seeing Ray like that while playing Max."

"Baby, you need to talk to Ray," Kensi murmured. "He needs his best friend now."

Deeks' smart phone interrupted their conversation. Deeks dragged it out of the back pocket of his jeans. It was Nell. He had to answer it. "Yeah, Nell."

" _We heard about Kensi._ _Is she okay?"_

"I'm taking care of her," Deeks replied. "We all know she's pretty tough."

That made the lady ninja assassin crack a smile.

" _Eric and I have news about Ray's family._ _They are alive and well in Catalina._ _His wife, under her witness protection name Stephanie Stein, is working as a maid at Angelo's hotel, The Paradise Sun Club. We spotted her in the background of a man's vacation photo on Facebook through Kaleidoscope."_

"What! They're alive!" Deek heaved a sigh of tremendous relief. "Why the hell is she working at Angelo's hotel?"

" _We_ _don't_ _really_ _know_ ," Nell admitted. _"It could be to keep herself and her daughter alive somehow."_

"Angelo is sending Kensi and possibly me to Catalina soon," Deeks supplied. "Angelo has some business there, possibly related to the weapons."

" _We'll dig into Angelo's dealings in Catalina,"_ said Nell.

"Right, okay, thank you so much, Nell." The call ended and Deeks set his phone aside. "Baby, Ray's wife and little girl are alive! They're in Catalina."

In overwhelming joy, Deeks leaned in for a delicate, yet soaking wet hug. Something Kensi was more than happy to return.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Backup**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 12: THE BACKUP

The red evening sun sank behind the dark silhouettes of skyscrapers. At the Mission, Granger sat, legs crossed, on a chair in Hetty's office. The Operations Manager perched regally behind her desk as always, sipping from one of her dainty floral tea cups, tasting the exotic tea brewed from leaves that were originally grown in the Far East.

Deep evening shadows crawled up the stucco walls.

"The Angelo op is growing more bizarre by the second, Henrietta," Granger muttered.

"I am thankful Kensi was on point and has turned the tables on Angelo," Hetty stated proudly.

"This had to be traumatic for her, though," Granger countered. "She got beaten pretty badly, a lot like in Afghanistan. We may need to have Dr. Getz speak with her again. "

"Agreed." Hetty nodded. "But only once the case is closed. I am confident that she and Mr. Deeks will nab this bastard and procure the stolen weapons."

"Yeah, but between this latest episode with Blye, and Deeks' personal issues with Martindale's family, it's only a matter of time before something blows their cover," said Granger.

Hetty's smart phone buzzed from her desk. She picked it up and found a text message. A sly grin curled her thin lips.

"What is it?" asked Granger.

"Backup," Hetty responded sharply.

* * *

Another beautiful sunny morning filtered through the grimy windows at the cover beach house. Deeks and Kensi were up in the living room, dressed, and speaking into their respective smart phones.

Deeks was giving much needed good news to his old friend.

" _My babies are in Catalina,"_ Ray's grateful voice spoke softly on the other end.

"I told you we'd find them," Deeks said happily.

" _Jenna must be bargaining with Angelo somehow,"_ theorized Ray. _"To keep herself and Carrie alive."_

"Angelo is sending Kensi to Catalina," reported Deeks. "We'll reunite you guys soon enough."

" _I'm scared that time's running out, Marty,"_ Ray said despondently.

"Don't talk like that, man," Deeks said calmly. "Jenna's tough and smart, too. She's a survivor. She needs you to stay strong for her and recover."

" _All I need is my girls back,"_ Ray said firmly.

"I know," said Deeks. "They're alive. We'll get them back."

" _Yeah."_ Ray whispered.

"We'll talk again soon, brother," Deeks promised.

" _We will,"_ said Ray.

"I'll save your girls."

The two friends bade farewell for now.

The detective glanced across the living room, where Kensi spoke with her worried mother on her phone. "Yes, I'm capable of working," Kensi said a little exasperated. "I can't pull out now."

Deeks stared at her. She wore worn-out jeans and a trendy long sleeved purple shirt to hide most of her cuts and bruises. She had just put on a stylish black choker to hide the massive bruise on her throat. She also painted her face with Fern's signature slut makeup, complete with liberal amounts of smoky eye shadows.

"Yes, the case is coming along, but you know I can't get into that with you," stressed Kensi - "All right, we'll all go on a vacation or something when this is all over."

Deeks joyously grinned as his girl continued her frantic conversation with her mother.

"What? Seriously? Deeks, come here." She beckoned him.

Deeks gladly crossed over to her. "What?"

"Monty wants to say hi." She switched her phone to speaker. The couple picked up timid barking coming out of the phone.

"Hey, Monty, my boy!" Deeks said heartily. "You better be chasing a scary ninja ghost cat away."

"Hey!" Kensi lightly slugged his shoulder. "Leave my dead cat alone!"

Deeks humorously ignored her. "And keep away from the underwear drawers."

" _It's a little too late for that, Marty,"_ Julia's wry voice followed Monty's out of the phone.

"What?" Deeks grew embarrassed. "Monty, I understand where you're coming from, buddy, but that's a no!"

Kensi rolled her eyes.

" _That's hardly important,"_ Julia said pointedly. _"Just keep my daughter safe."_

"I'm not going to screw that up again," Deeks vowed. "You got my word."

The two said goodbye to Julia.

"Deeks, you've got to stop blaming yourself for what happened," Kensi pleaded. "You actually heeded Thapa's warning. You told me what he said and I was as vigilant as I could be. It's okay and I'll continue on just fine."

"Y'know, personally, I agree with your mother," Deeks told her. "I want to take care of you right now and you need to rest."

"Yeah, well, there's no rest for Angelo's newest thug," muttered Kensi.

"Sahib."

The two started, reflectively drawing their guns.

Thapa had snuck his way into the living room.

"Sorry," the Gurkha apologized hastily, raising his hands. "I have to do this. Angelo can't know we are soul brothers. I take it we are safe to speak here freely."

"Yeah," replied Deeks.

The two lowered their guns, returning them to the small of their backs.

Deeks smiled. "You got something for us, brother?"

"Yes, I have." Thapa nervelessly approached them. "I discovered that the disgraced Gurkhas aligned with Angelo are in Catalina. They are occupying a hotel called The Paradise Sun Club."

"Small world," Deeks remarked. "That's also where Angelo's holding my friend's wife and daughter captive. He promised that something big will go down soon."

"I would say so," Thapa concurred.

"Why would a bunch of Gurkhas want to work for Angelo?" Kensi queried, brows furrowed.

"These Gurkhas are being paid in heavy artillery," said Thapa.

"And Angelo wants the bragging rights of having warrior race guys on his team," Kensi deduced.

"While trash like Max are in charge of the lowly street thugs," conceded Deeks.

"How did you insert yourself into Angelo's gang?" Kensi further questioned Thapa. "I mean, do the other Gurkhas know who you are?"

"The Gurkhas working for Angelo were part of a small, specialized infiltration unit. They seldom interacted with other Gurkhas and had no previous dealings with me," explained Thapa. "They vanished two years ago, likely once they began their association with Angelo. They know only I am a Gurkha and I am interested in profiting from Angelo's crimes as they do."

"When all the while, you are working your way into Angelo's circle here in Los Angeles conducting your investigation," Kensi further deduced.

"That is exactly right," Thapa complemented. "Is your partner's detective skills manifesting in you?"

"I am a criminology expert," Kensi boasted. "And I better go. I can't be late for my first day as Angelo's favorite coast trash."

"I'll catch you later," Deeks told her.

"Okay, bye, babe," Kensi said as she reached the front door.

"Bye," replied Deeks.

"Don't aim another grenade launcher at Angelo without us," Thapa cut in. "That was very entertaining."

Kensi laughed as she opened the door and left.

The Gurkha instinctively sensed that his American detective friend was angsting. "You are worried about her."

"She almost got killed yesterday right in this room, and I wasn't here to help her," Deeks murmured.

"Don't blame yourself, my friend," Thapa said to him. "Like you said yesterday, you both know the risks and she is strong. But there will always be things that are out of your control."

"Yeah, like Fern going toe-to-toe with Angelo while he indulges in his dirty old villainous crush," Deeks mumbled. "And Max is stuck mingling with even less appealing criminals on the streets."

"Are you two still stranded on your frozen lake?" Thapa inquired.

"Nope." Deeks exhaled. "But almost as soon as we hooked up, Angelo happened."

"Your heart still may need more discipline," advised Thapa.

Deeks smirked. He wasn't even sure he understood what that meant, though. "You're the coolest, brother." The detective's smart phone _ding_. He received a text from Salvator Santos. "Oh, good, my friendly neighborhood arms dealer is ready for our morning meeting."

"Who is that?" asked Thapa.

"Salvator Santos," answered Deeks.

"I know him," Thapa informed him. "He watches over me like a starving hawk whenever I am in the presence of Angelo's weapons."

"Santos has clearly become one of Angelo's top baddies," said Deeks. "Maybe he's one of the links between Angelo and the weapons."

* * *

Later that morning, Fern took a huge swig of her virgin Bloody Mary in the lounge of the Vista. Gorgeous sunlight streamed through the expansive windows. She sat at a small round table with Angelo. Nate resumed his cover as the bartender. Every now and then he snuck Kensi a 'we're-so-having-a-massive-therapy-session' look. The Special Agent ignored him.

Angelo seemed quite relaxed and secure in Fern's presence. There was a wicked irony in that he hired her to have his back, not just because Fern fearlessly threatened to blow him away with a grenade launcher, but also because Kensi riddled his hotel suite with bullets, prompting rumors about the attempt on his life in the first place. Thanks to Angelo's lustful obliviousness, he trusted her of all people to keep him safe from gunfire.

That itself was a perfect crime.

Once she finished gulping down her virgin Bloody Mary, Fern realized Angelo was openly staring at her. "What?" she demanded indignantly.

"For someone who took a beating from a gorilla, you look really good," the mobster said silkily.

Fern snorted. "I've looked better."

"I don't know, I think you look like a savage warrior princess," Angelo said admiringly. "I like it."

Fern said nothing.

The mobster's smart phone vibrated inside the front pocket of his tailored blazer. He checked the ID and answered the call. "Yeah... You'd better get that shipment sorted out, or I'll eat your greasy head for breakfast." He hotly ended the call and deposited the phone back inside his front blazer pocket. The pocket was easily within Kensi's reach. Her ears pricked up at the word 'shipment' and how testy Angelo seemed.

"Is there a problem I need to know about?" She kept her voice flighty and casual.

"Just a slight business hiccup," Angelo dismissed. "It doesn't concern you."

The mob boss looked around the glistening room. There weren't many people in the lounge this time of day. He trailed his beady gaze over to the large room's entrance. His face dramatically fell when he witnessed an overweight old man jovially strolling in.

"Oh, God, hide me." He childishly hid his face with his hands.

"What's up?" Fern was befuddled by this newest quirk.

"Arkady Kolcheck," Angelo groaned. He acted like he was about to bump into a annoying random acquaintance in some grocery store aisle.

"What?" Kensi felt like hiding herself, too. If Arkady noticed her, her cover may be blown.

Of course, the ex-KGB agent spotted them and approached their table. He'd already gotten a good look at Kensi. Once he made it over to them, he glanced down at Angelo like he found something smelly sticking to the soles of his expensive designer shoes.

"Vincent, long time no zee, uh?" he said in his thick accent. "What'z with the hiding of face? Your hotel is not, as they say, too gaudy."

Angelo removed his hands from his face and snickered. "Very funny, wise guy!"

"I heard you had party here," said Arkady. "Why didn't I get invite?"

"It was too frivolous for you," exclaimed Angelo.

"Come now! I am king of frivolouz!" Arkady declared animatedly. "I feel hurt. Maybe I throw party and not invite you."

"That would hurt my feelings," Angelo responded, obviously lying.

"Then at next party, you invite Arkady," he declared, poking his flabby chest with his fat thumb.

"Will do." Angelo nodded.

"Who'z your lady friend?" Arkady leered directly at Kensi. "A very hot Amazon."

Kensi stared back at him. Evidently, her cover wasn't blown. "Francesca," she replied, flattered.

"She works for me," Angelo explained. "She's really neat with the fighting."

"Ah." Arkady nodded.

Two other recognizable men ventured into the affluent lounge, wearing suits and blazers. They veered towards the table. Kensi expertly held her surprise at bay. The new guys were Callen and Sam.

"Ah, my entourage," said Arkady.

"What you think your doin' holdin' us up!?" Sam harshly shot at Arkady, obviously playing a street character.

"I not holding you up, Desmond," Arkady insisted. "I was finding us a table to dine at."

"Hey, who are these two pogo sticks?" Angelo sneered at the newcomers. "I've never seen them around."

"Don't get short with Desmond," Callen told Angelo in his skilled Russian accent. "He is, as you say, explosive."

"Shut up, Alexi!" "Desmond" shoved Callen, who timidly shielded his face with his arms. "Oh, please don't hurt!" cried the Russian pathetically.

"Hey, hey, you boys are causing a scene!" Angelo said affronted.

While he was distracted, Kensi pickpocketed his smart phone. In her formative years, when she was homeless on the streets, she'd learned this ancient art of thievery, along with lock picking. She swiftly scrolled through Angelo's contact list, hiding the phone under the table.

"If you got held up by this bloated Ruskie, you'd be pissed, too!" "Desmond" spat at Angelo.

"There's no need to cause a scene," Angelo chided. "You are in a classy joint. I mean, this isn't _Denny's_!"

Angelo shot out of his chair. Loyally, Fern followed him up, keeping herself between her boss and the pogo sticks. Kensi snuck the phone back inside his blazer pocket, his attention still glued on the three questionable clowns.

"Yeah, you are usually the ham," Arkady retorted to Angelo.

"Are you going to find your own table, Kolcheck, or do I need to uninvite you from my hotel?" Angelo sniped moodily.

"Very well, we get our own table," Arkady said coolly. "Come along, fellas."

"Like I said, Desmond explooooodes," "Alexi" whispered to Angelo smugly.

"Desmond" smacked "Alexi" hard across his head as they found their own table. "Don't get weaselly," he warned him.

Fern and Angelo watched as the three men claimed a table by the empty piano stage. "That Arkady Kolcheck is a strange, wishy-washy commie," Angelo whispered to Fern. "I mean, look what he's keeping company with!"

To Kensi, Arkady seemed like a way more normal mobster than Angelo.

"I don't commune with him much," Angelo went on. "I get the feeling he's prone to double crossing."

Kensi snuck a quick sideways glance at her two partners skulking in their seats by the stage. It felt good to finally have Callen and Sam back from Mexico, especially providing backup.

* * *

At the OPS center, Eric and Nell sat on their chairs, alertly keeping watch over the monitors. Hetty and Granger lurked in the background, also observing the monitors. A light _ding_ went off from Eric's smart phone. "It's from Kensi," he spoke, reading his phone.

"What did she send you?" Hetty inquired.

"A list of names from Angelo's smart phone," Eric excitedly filled in.

"Put them up on the screen," commanded Granger.

The list of seemingly random names popped up on the big screen. Names that mostly belonged to lowly criminals. Then the quartet looked into the name of Vic Holdren.

"Vic Holdren is a Warrant Officer." Nell speed read the man's file.

"Fancy finding a distinguished man like him in a deranged mafioso's phone," commented Hetty.

"Looks like we found our traitor," Granger said seriously. "Find out everything about Holdren," he fiercely ordered the Wonder Twins. "And I _do_ mean everything."

"Right." Eric nodded nervously.

"Will do, sir," Nell responded professionally.

* * *

Max stalked the docks with the typical posturing of an arrogant street thug. Seagulls glided slowly through the sunny skies, squawking. The salty briny stench irritated his nostrils. Max spotted the sinister, oily presence of Salvator Santos waiting for him in the shadows by a rundown warehouse, arms tightly folded over his chest.

"Max, I heard your spicy mistress went bat crazy on Angelo," Santos said by way of greeting.

"Yeah, but they kissed and made up," Max drawled.

"I also heard she's his muscle now," said Santos.

"Power of forgiveness," muttered Max. "I'm told you've got something for me?"

"Yeah, inside the warehouse." Santos nodded towards the building behind him.

Max quietly followed the arms dealer inside. In the darkened, shadowy warehouse, a terrifying, yet dazzling engine of destruction caught his eye. A gigantic war tank loomed motionless in the shadows, looking impregnable and mighty.

Deeks kept his face emotionless.

"Angelo wants me to tell you he means serious business," Santos relayed to Max.

The thug merely shrugged. "I thought it would be bigger."

Santos scoffed.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Warrant Officer**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 13: THE WARRANT OFFICER

Max trooped over to the lounge at the Vista with Salvator Santos by his side. It was mid-afternoon. They found Angelo and Fern sitting at a round table, watching the piano player on stage putting on a lively, ragtime performance. Angelo listened to the bouncy tunes from the early part of the twentieth century with cheery delight, jiggling his shoulders in a little dance from his seat. Fern, however, looked bored out of her mind.

All the while, Nate was still maintaining his cover at the bar.

Santos and Max took their seats at the table.

"I just showed Max the enormous surprise," Santos told Angelo.

"What surprise?" Fern asked, interested.

"A tank," Max muttered to her.

"You saw a tank!" Fern gasped, jaw dropped. "I only saw some weird Ruskie dude."

"And his two stooges." Angelo rolled his eyes.

"When are you replacing my grenade launcher?" Max demanded of the mob boss pointedly. "I certainly wouldn't mind one of those sweet tanks."

"At the warehouse, you said you thought the tank was going to be bigger," Santos snidely retorted.

"I'm not gonna take that sickly one," Max countered.

"You should expect a big present soon, Max," Angelo said cryptically. "I got more surprises in store."

* * *

Across town, Sam drove his beloved Challenger through a wholesome suburban neighborhood. Most of the houses were well-kept, two-story homes, with lushes green front yards, shady trees, and laughing children playing in the streets.

Callen sat on the passenger side. "I keep thinking about Kensi and Deeks," he confided to his partner.

"Kensi's fine, Deeks is the one you need to worry about," quipped Sam.

"But, seriously," continued Callen. "While we were chasing our tails south of the border, they were given the Angelo case and went undercover as a floozy crime couple..."

"And you think we'd do better in their place," Sam cut him off.

"When all the while, they kiss at ice rinks during their off hours," Callen finished undaunted.

"Hetty and Granger know they are an item now," said Sam, keeping his eyes on the street. There were a lot of kids playing around.

"The last case like this was pretty rough on you and Deeks," Callen reminded soberly. "Back when you and Michelle went undercover."

"Double dating with Sidorov's jumper cables and dental drill was no picnic," Sam admitted.

"Maybe we need a new tactic," Callen suggested. "We should call in our own Russian."

"You want to go back on duty as pogo sticks for Arkady?" Sam scoffed.

"Well, he throws Angelo off. We figured that out," Callen said reasonably.

"Spending any time around that guy throws my appetite off," Sam grumbled.

"And he gave us a ready made alibi for crashing Angelo's parties," Callen countered.

"Yeah, I guess that was pretty slick," Sam hesitantly amended with a nod.

"You notice how beat up Kensi looked back at the hotel?" asked Callen.

Sam's eyes hardened. "Yeah, looked like someone choked her. She was trying to hide it." He looked out the window. "Deeks must be beside himself."

"You have a problem with Deeks and Kensi's ice rink escapades?" Callen pressed.

"I don't think they know what they're in for," Sam explained rationally. "When Michelle and I fell in love, it was intense and passionate. But there comes a point when a tough call has to be made."

"Marriage and children," Callen surmised.

"I don't know if Kensi and Deeks are mature enough for this," said Sam. "Me and Michelle raised two kids and shared a bank account for more than twenty years. Were we ready? I think I'm gonna have a talk with them."

"They've been in this line of work for a long time," Callen pointed out. "They've heard it all before."

"Yeah," Sam whispered.

Callen spotted a white, two-story house dead ahead. In contrast to the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, the yard was dry and yellow. There was a wraparound porch with a quaint porch swing hung by the front window.

"Here it is," Callen announced to his partner.

Sam parked the Challenger in front of the driveway.

"How do you wager Holdren will cooperate?" Callen asked lightly.

"I'll be in the back," answered Sam. "Just in case."

"All right."

The two got out of the gleaming muscle car. As Sam stealthily snuck off into the backyard, Callen casually strolled up to the wraparound porch and rang the doorbell. While he patiently waited, Callen noticed the overstuffed mailbox and the fading newspapers littering the walkway.

A gruff-faced, sharp blue eyed man answered the door. He had blonde-graying hair and was tall and well-built.

"Vic Holdren?" Callen sought to confirm.

The man didn't answer. He only narrowed his steely eyes suspiciously.

"Special Agent Callen from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service." He flashed his badge. "You need to come with me."

The Warrant Officer abruptly slammed the door on Callen's face, but the agent immediately kicked the door back open. The Warrant Officer was already dashing to the back of the house.

"We got a runner!" Callen drew his gun and chased after him through the living room.

The man raced to the back kitchen door. But Sam surprised him by kicking down the door, knocking it off its hinges. He wrestled him down to the floor. Callen rushed up to them, his gun still firmly in hand. "Like I said, you need to come with me."

"You know, if you had built the door frame to code, it would've held up a lot better," Sam told the Warrant Officer evenly.

* * *

The disgraced Warrant Officer was unceremoniously hauled to the boatshed. When Callen and Sam arrived, Granger was tensely waiting for them, while a guard took the man to the interrogation room. They spoke to the Assistant Director.

"You want us to question him?" asked Sam.

"I got this," Granger told them.

He grabbed a dog-eared file from the table and headed for the interrogation room.

Callen and Sam shared a quick look, then went to view the interrogation through the monitor.

The restrained Warrant Officer sat stoically on the suspect's chair, as Granger silently slid into the room, reading the file. He sat across from him, placing photos on the table. The photos were of Holdren proudly wearing his uniform, when he was a younger man. As well as two other military men who were generations older than him.

"Victor Holdren," began Granger. "Served in the Gulf War. Your father served with distinction in Nam. Even your grandfather served in Korea."

The Warrant Officer showed no reaction.

Granger continued, undeterred. "That's quite the history. Forgive me for finding it just a tad peculiar that you'd muddy the reputation of your entire family."

Holdren sat unresponsive, staring forward, refusing to even glance at any of the photos.

"And you, a Warrant Officer, the first in your distinguished family, somehow stole weapons from the Navy and freely gave them to a psychopathic cartoon character."

The Warrant Officer remained silent.

"Your father died in '99, didn't he?" pressed Granger. "At least he's not here to see you now."

Still no response.

Granger continued. "Your wife must've seen this coming. Is this why she left you during your last deployment?"

Holdren still ignored him.

Granger narrowed his eyes. "Of course, the real victim is your daughter. With no mother to speak of and her father going to prison, it's going to be pretty rough on her. Guess you didn't worry about that too much when you were betraying your country."

The Warrant Officer's stony facade crumbled, revealing a desperate broken man. He tried to rip his restraints from the chair. "I have to get back to her!" The chair held and Granger was unimpressed.

"Now, how are you even getting these weapons?" Granger demanded heatedly.

"I can't say," Holdren said in a cracked voice.

"Well, what do you know!" Granger said bitingly. "He answers. At least tell me this; why are you even doing this?"

Holdren thought for a moment before responding. "I have no choice." His hoarse voice remained low.

"What do you mean you don't have a choice?" Granger shot at him bitterly.

"Angelo -" the Warrant Officer struggled - "he has my daughter!" He finally broke down.

"Your daughter?" Granger was dubious.

"He said he'll kill her if I don't do what he says," Holdren explained, nearly in tears. "He took her. I don't know where he's keeping her. They tell me what they want. If I don't do it – if I don't report in – my little girl's dead. She's only eleven. She's all the family that matters now."

After the interrogation, Granger, Callen and Sam conferred with Eric and Nell on the monitor, who reported in from the OPS center.

"Holdren has an eleven-year-old daughter named Amelia. She hasn't been seen by anyone at her school for the past two months." Nell popped up a photo on the screen of a smiling, slender little girl with long sunny blonde hair. "But her disappearance has never been reported to the authorities. We also found evidence of Holdren seeking psychological help, likely for undiagnosed PTSD."

"Thus making Holdren an effective puppet for Angelo," mumbled Granger. "Have you two located his daughter?"

"No, we don't know where she's being held," Eric answered meekly.

"And we haven't received any reports of matching Jane Does from any local morgues," Nell added.

"If she's alive, it's likely Catalina," Granger said stiffly. "Considering that's where Angelo is holding Martindale's family."

"Nell and I have thought of that," supplied Eric. "We just don't have any confirmation."

"Where do we go from here?" Callen asked the Assistant Director.

"We start acting fast," said Granger. "Precious lives are at stake."

* * *

As the picturesque California sun sank below the wavy ocean, Angelo threw himself a little private party on the back terrace of the Vista. He was so glad he didn't invite Arkady. The terrace overlooked the luminescent sea with the beautiful sandy beach framing a shimmering endless horizon.

Angelo poured himself some scotch, while his most trusted guys merely milled around, looking bored, quietly drinking their bourbon. Max sat on one of the chairs with Fern playfully sitting on his lap. The two shared a bottle of Jack Daniels. They even drink from it at the same time.

Evening shadows stretched across the terrace.

Frank Sinatra's "Fly Me To The Moon" blared from the speakers. Most of Angelo's trusted followers shot him rather mocking looks, but as far as the mob kingpin was concerned, this was real gangsta music. The Chairman of the Board made the whole crooner with mob ties concept fashionable, long before all these tuneless, jabbering rappers were even conceived inside their stoned mothers wombs.

His smart phone vibrated. He instantly answered. "Yeah."

"The Warrant Officer has been taken in by the feds," a mook reported from the other end.

"It was always inevitable that the law would annoyingly butt in." Angelo sighed. "We'd better prepare ourselves." Angelo ended the call and approached Max and his new guard. "Francesca, pack your things and get ready to board my yacht. We're heading to Catalina."

"What am I doing?" Max slurred.

"I just received word that the pigs are on to us," growled Angelo. "I'm afraid we need to let slip the dogs of war."

"Sounds strenuous," Max drawled.

"It will be for them," declared Angelo.

* * *

At a little boat rental place on a unassuming dock, a helpful woman working the front desk handed a boat key over to a man wearing a long raincoat. He hid his face by wearing a droopy fishing hat and dark sunglasses. Plus his black beard.

But the woman could still make out his cuts and bruises. She had no desire to ask questions.

"Enjoy your fishing trip, sir." She smiled pleasantly.

"Oh, I will," said the man. "I'm meeting up with my wife and daughter."

"Oh, how nice." The rental lady smiled pleasantly again.

"Yeah." The man left with his key.

Out on the sunset veiled dock, he spotted his little rental boat. Ray was set to head for Catalina to rescue his family.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: A Confrontational Battle**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 14: A CONFRONTATIONAL BATTLE

Kensi hauled her knapsack up to Angelo's luxury yacht called _The_ _Italian_ _Beacon_. The early night sky fell over the city, a shimmering deep blue. The full silvery moon glowed down on the dock.

An uneasy wariness coursed through Kensi. She didn't know what was going on. She didn't know why Angelo was on the defensive or what he sent Deeks off to do. Kensi figured the rest of the team made some sort of breakthrough with the case. She wished she didn't have to sail off with Angelo. She'd much rather have her partner's back. But she knew this was their best hope to save Ray's family.

Once Kensi climbed up to the yacht, she dropped her bag down on the deck and went to look out at the ocean from the bow. She absentmindedly watched the bright beams of moonlight shine in the dark, reflective waters. Angelo set his own luggage aside and joined her.

"You better get in the cabin," he told her. "We'll be casting off soon."

"I'm fine," Fern said distracted.

"That's cool." Angelo shrugged. "The moon is pretty tonight."

Fern didn't respond to him. She kept staring off into the murky waters, her wavy hair softly billowing in the cool sea breeze.

"Francesca," Angelo began awkwardly. "Do you have any actual plans for the future?"

"To kick ass and get well paid for it," the savage warrior princess answered coolly.

"Good plan." Angelo grinned. "I've got a feeling that I just might have recruited the wrong pistol. How long are you going to shack up with that skeevy Max? You got a bright future ahead of you, girl. He's slowing you down."

"Me and Max live in the moment, gramps," Fern said sardonically. "We barely discuss what we want for dinner, let alone what our next job might be."

"So, you don't see yourself bearing Max's fat little babies," Angelo said pleased.

"The only thing I care about is finding the raciest, sheerist lingerie I can find and rocking and rolling with Max," Fern claimed bluntly. "And sharing in the riches."

"Okay, okay." Angelo laughed, flustered.

"Was that TMI?" Fern mocked. "You want to know what me and Max are about? Well, we really like sex and ass kicking – oh, and money, too."

"Yeah, yeah, you guys share a sweet, pure love," Angelo remarked with obvious sarcasm. "But you're going to be a solo act for a little while. I'm going to introduce you to some seriously cool people. They're kick ass ninja soldiers. I kid you not!"

"Cool," Fern chirped bubbly.

"We're casting off!" an anonymous lackey hollered.

Angelo dashed to the cabin, while Kensi resumed quietly staring out into the ocean. She found it worrisome that Angelo was sending Deeks into the line of fire. She hoped the guys had his back.

* * *

Max patrolled the docks with Santos, protecting Angelo's private warehouses. Soft lunar light illuminated the receding coastal waters, while fog lanterns hung from the warehouses provided dim yellow light. The cold sea soothingly swayed beneath them.

"I don't get why Angelo is creaming his panties," Max muttered to Santos. "Why does he think the law's on to him? He was less than forthcoming at the party."

"The feds nabbed his top supplier," Santos explained.

"Bummer," Max responded. "I take it he has more hardware in Catalina?"

Santos didn't answer. The two men spotted Thapa leaning over the wooden railing, looking up at a docked fishing ship.

"Yo, Gurkha!" Santos called, grabbing his attention. "Any pigs stop by?"

"Pigs?" Thapa squinted quizzically at the arms dealer, as the two men approached.

"Cops, feds," Max elaborated. "Fuzz if you're a dinosaur."

Thapa shook his head. "No, I haven't seen any of that."

"Good," said Santos.

"So far this war's kinda boring," Max complained.

"Excuse me, fellas," a gravelly, masculine voice cut in.

Max and Santos looked over their shoulders and saw a slim middle-aged bald man, wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt and long tan shorts. A man Deeks and Thapa knew as Assistant Director Granger, but was a total stranger to their undercover characters. Santos had never seen him before. The older man only carried a fishing rod.

"This place look like a fishing hole, old-timer?" sneered Santos. "Get outta here. I'm sure someone nice will direct you to _Walgreens_ or one of those old people stores."

"I just want to know what's biting," the older man claimed innocently.

"Your outfit for one," Max countered, eyeing the loud clothing.

"Look, man, it's a little late for fishing," Santos spat.

"It's never too late for fishing," the man disagreed cryptically. "I just caught the catch of the day."

Max narrowed his eyes. "You're a pig, aren't you?"

"I prefer fuzz, actually." The old man smirked.

Santos looked wildly between Max and the "fisherman." "Whoa, c'mon, man!"

"Get on the boat, Thapa," Max ordered, his icy glare piercing the not-so-unassuming fisherman. "And make some noise."

Thapa bolted up the gangplank, calling out a loud warrior's battle cry when he reached the deck. Max and Santos drew their guns as the fake fisherman drew his from behind his back, dropping his fishing rod. An army of black garbed feds covered in face masks, stealthily emerged from the thick shadows. All of them equipped with assault rifles.

"C'mon, man." Santos grabbed Max by the shoulder, slowly pulling him up the gangplank, kicking loose the knot in the mooring as he went.

Max still held his gun on Granger. Santos frantically let out the first shot. Granger fired back at them, hitting Santos in his right shoulder. The greasy arms dealer grunted in pain.

"You're slowing us down." Max threw Santos off the gangplank, sending him landing harshly down on the wooden dock. Max fired a warning shot at Granger and leaped up to the deck. The ship was loaded with barrels and crates, some of them half-opened.

Thapa and some of Angelo's other hoods sprang up on the ship's deck with their own assault rifles. They fired at the feds with reckless abandon. Granger and the rest of the law ducked for cover and fired back.

Through the curtain of fast, spraying bullets, Max managed to cut loose the anchor from the back. The ship slowly cast off. The gangplank snapped apart as the ship pulled from the dock. The firing of gunshots loudly rang on.

Keeping to cover, Max discovered a grenade launcher inside one of the half-opened crates. He grabbed it and quickly loaded it. He fired one round at the closest of Angelo's warehouses. For a split second, nothing happened. Then bedlam; as thousands of rounds of ammunition and several crates of grenades, exploded all at once. This really startled the feds, as well as the now handcuffed Santos.

"What are you doing?" one of Angelo's typically greasy thugs screamed at Max, as they all ducked for cover on the deck. The next warehouse over, the one housing the majestic tank, had already caught fire.

"Destroying evidence so Angelo can't be linked to gun running," Max explained wildly.

"You think it's that simple?" the thug shouted, perturbed.

"We need to blow the ship," Thapa helpfully piped up. "Many of Angelo's incriminating war weapons are on board."

"What! Are you crazy, too!?" the greasy thug was panicking.

"He's right," said Max. "The Coast Guard will swarm us long before we reach Catalina."

Another thug, still firing from the starboard side of the ship, took a bullet in the chest and slumped over the side.

"We'd better blow this rust bucket and dog paddle to the island," yelled Max.

"You're both psychos!" the greasy thug railed, appalled.

Back on what was left of the dock, Granger and the rest of the feds ceased firing when the battered ship drifted too far from shore. The ship then suddenly erupted into a loud, gigantic fireball, lighting up the clear night sky with fiery shrapnel.

Granger and the feds started. Callen and Sam removed their masks, eyes wide. Granger soberly stared at the smoldering fire in the ocean. "What are you playing at, detective," he whispered.

* * *

Kensi endured a rather uneventful trip to Catalina. The trip on Angelo's yacht was boring, but she dutifully kept a lookout for any suspicious boats or helicopters that may be targeting her insane employer. She didn't find any. On the plus side, Kensi didn't really mind fulfilling her dull duties. It prevented Angelo from flirting or trying to reach out.

Without fanfare, the two arrived at the island. Once the yacht was docked, Angelo and Fern quickly made their way from the docks and trudged off across the beach. Angelo gallantly carried his own luggage, while Fern slung her knapsack over her shoulder.

"Don't you have a limo or a Rolls Royce or something that could take us to the hotel?" Fern griped.

"It's not far," Angelo exclaimed, panting. "A bit of walking will do you some good. Helps strengthen those long hot legs."

"It wouldn't do me any good if a sniper smeared my brains all over the sand," Fern countered. "But I guess they wouldn't be aiming at me, now, would they?"

"Nothing like that happens here," dismissed Angelo.

Kensi trailed her attention to the ocean. The bright, waxing moon luminously hung in the night sky. She even spotted some stars. It was a welcome sight. Kensi hardly saw any stars back in LA. She deeply inhaled the sea breeze. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear she smelt something burning somewhere in the distance. Before she could fully consider this, a ten story, Mediterranean style building came into view up ahead.

"There it is," Angelo said brightly.

They climbed over the sand dunes and made their way to the hotel. When they finally entered the deserted tropical lobby, Angelo said a friendly hello to the woman working the front desk. Fern kept quiet and followed him into a private elevator. Angelo pushed the button for the top floor. The automatic doors opened up onto a penthouse.

"Home sweet home," said Angelo, as they stepped out of the elevator. The doors slid shut securely behind them.

"Is this really your home?" Fern looked around the spacious living room. It had high ceilings, clean beige walls with expensive, but impersonal looking oil paintings hung on them, thick tan carpet and leather furniture. There was also an open concept kitchen with stainless steel appliances.

"It is for now," said Angelo, setting his luggage aside. "I despise LA. I badly need to rule it."

"I thought your aim was world domination," Fern drawled.

Angelo scoffed. "The world! Have you seen what lives there? I want to rule what's worth ruling; Chicago, New York, hell, even Jersey has more clout than LA."

Fern was perplexed. "Then why are you doing all of this?"

The gaunt mafioso smiled, clearly happy she'd asked. "Baby steps, Francesca. When Cesar wanted to conquer a city, what did he do?"

"Sell cheap pizzas?" Fern guessed.

Angelo chuckled. "Almost. He starved them, surrounded them on all sides, took everything they needed just to survive. And only when they were desperate enough to make a mistake, he'd attack."

"Okay, sure." Fern shrugged. "But what does this have to do with Jersey?"

"Nothing's about Jersey!" Angelo snarled. "We're talking war. LA, the City of Angels, with even half the man power of the Southland Kings, I could take all of New York. If I can claim this sunny heap of a city, it would be like Nevada all over again. The Kingpins and wise guys of the east coast would have to bow down before me." Angelo waved to a closed door near the kitchen. "Your suite is in there. It has its own spa bathroom."

Fern gaped at him. "I'm staying in your penthouse?"

"You're my bodyguard," Angelo said logically. "I need you close."

"Yes, you do," Fern agreed. "Did that slag I wiped out at my house live with you, too?"

"I always keep my bodyguards close," Angelo answered vaguely. "Why don't you unpack and unwind."

"Shouldn't I inspect this place to make sure there's no bugs or hidden bombs in the toilets?" Fern asked.

"I had my maid do all that stuff before we got here," Angelo responded nonchalantly. "It's fine."

"You have a maid that inspects your penthouse for bugs and stuff?" Fern said impressed. "You are full of surprises."

"I find it shocking that you thought I wouldn't have such a servant." Angelo smirked, bemused. He moved to the frosted glass coffee table in the center of the room and picked up a remote control. He turned on a large flat screen TV adorning his wall. "We're safe, Francesca. Just relax."

Fern looked at him wordlessly, then crossed to the door leading to her suite. Angelo turned up a local news report on the TV. Fern paused while opening her door.

" _Still no confirmation as of yet if this has been linked with any known terrorist groups. Once again, breaking news, a massive explosion occurred at the west LA docks earlier this evening,"_ reported an anchor woman. _"The blast destroyed a fishing ship and several warehouses were reduced to rubble._ _Unsubstantiated reports suggest that there has been a shootout with authorities._ _One arrest has been made._ _According to the LAPD, everyone on the fishing ship perished in the blast."_

"Oh, dammit!" Angelo fumed. "This is us!"

"Wait, what do you mean this is us?!" Fern spat, dumbfounded.

"Max, Zapa and the rest of the boys were suppose to bring them war!" Angelo whined petulantly. "Not get blown up!"

"What?" Fern uttered.

Kensi's heart froze. Right then and there it felt like the world completely stopped. Before anything could sink in, Angelo's phone rang from the end table sitting next to the couch. The mobster quickly answered. "Yeah?"

Fern watched him talk on his phone.

"Send them up." He ended the call.

"Who's coming up?" Fern demanded.

"Evidently, some dead guys." Angelo shrugged, his tone uncaring.

They heard the private elevator arrive. Its automatic doors slid open. Max, Thapa and about twelve other men clambered out. They were all dripping wet.

"Max, what the hell happened at the docks!" Angelo snapped dramatically. "You boys were supposed to blow up the law! Not the other way around!"

"They took us by surprise," Max said lightly. "They got Santos. I had to take out your warehouses. Maybe it will slow them down, maybe it won't, but hopefully I got that dorky, old asshole. But yeah, you're done. I'm gonna take Fern and go."

"I'm not licked yet, Max," Angelo hissed, his eyes brightly sharp and deranged. "I still have enough merchandise to meet all my orders. The deal is still on."

"If that's how you want to roll. Your delusional fantasies worked so far." Max laid his eyes on his mistress. The sad, emotional look clouding her face didn't go unnoticed. "What's up, Fern? You look like someone ran over your poodle."

"I thought you were blown up," Fern explained, strengthening her voice. "We just heard it on the news."

"No, I didn't get blown up," Max told her with no emotion in his own voice.

"Why are you guys dripping your failure all over my floor?" Angelo sneered.

"We had to swim all the way here," Thapa explained.

"And you didn't leave any of your stylish suits for us in the lobby," Max added. He returned his gaze to Fern.

"What are your plans now?" Thapa asked Angelo.

"For starters, we stop destroying our own merchandise," said Angelo.

"I take it you don't approve of me getting blown up." Max crossed over to Fern, trailing muddy boot prints on Angelo's expensive tan carpet. The mob boss glared at the sodden thug venomously.

"I got used to you." Fern shrugged.

"Why's your stuff here?" Max gestured at her knapsack.

She'd forgotten that she was even carrying it. "Angelo gave me a suite in his penthouse," Fern informed him. "He says it has a spa bathroom."

"How thoughtful of him to do that for us." Max threw Angelo a smug look.

"You think you're staying here?" Angelo sniped.

"Wherever Fern sleeps, I'm there," Max declared. "And I had a long night covering your ass. We're hitting the sack."

"Should you take a shower first?" Thapa suggested.

"I'll help with that," Fern told Max eagerly.

"Yes, you will," Max huskily told Fern.

Max and Fern's kinky bad guy sex would always win out over Angelo's boring villain rants.

"Say good night, Fern," drawled Max.

"Take it easy, Angelo," Fern told the mob boss dryly. "Don't get yourself shot or anything. Your bodyguard's body is going to be busy for a while."

Angelo and his uncomfortable thugs watched as the sleazy "love birds" quickly dragged themselves into her suite and shut themselves inside, making out as they did so.

"Kids are so uninhibited." Angelo rolled his eyes.

"Would you like to lay out your strategy for us?" Thapa asked professionally.

"No, it's been a rough night." Angelo irritably rubbed his eyes. "We should all rest up. We'll meet up in the morning."

"Understood." Thapa nodded.

* * *

Inside Fern's suite, Kensi tightly embraced her soaked boyfriend.

"Thank God, you're safe," she breathed.

Deeks tenderly stroked her soft, wavy hair.

"I'm okay, baby," he gently whispered into her dark locks. "Have you seen Jenna?" He whispered that very quietly.

"Not yet," Kensi whispered softly.

Deeks continued holding her, showing no signs of budging. They didn't really know what Angelo's scheme was in Catalina, but they knew they still had their work cut out for them.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Paradise Sun Club**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 15: THE PARADISE SUN CLUB

Bright, beautiful rays of the tropical sun glistened across the island of Catalina. Angelo quietly witnessed the morning sun rise over the ocean from the windows of his top floor penthouse. He donned an expensive silk robe.

In Fern's suite, Kensi woke up next to Deeks on a king-sized bed, tangled up in white sheets and a sandy-colored coverlet. Neither were dressed. Dark, nasty bruises still marred Kensi's body, but she could still effectively play the role of mistress. She certainly still looked the part.

Since actually becoming lovers, the partners found it was not quite so awkward to publicly flaunt Max and Fern's unbridled, white trash passions as they'd done the night before. Since they themselves were still enjoying the early sexual bliss of being "all in," it was all very easy to play. It was nothing like their earlier painful efforts to pass themselves off as a couple. Looking back, it seemed like a life-time ago, as opposed to just a few short years. It was truly astonishing how much Deeks and Kensi had changed, both individually, and in their personal relationship, in that short space of time.

If they were playing Justin and Melissa Warren today, they would be much more comfortably intimate in their roles. If Max and Fern had anything in common with Deeks and Kensi, it would be that their dynamic was every bit as sexually charged. That crappy beach house was an actual love shack. And so was this suite. It seemed at times that playing Max and Fern wasn't an act. They just had different priorities. Max and Fern were the bad guys while Deeks and Kensi were the good guys. Both personas were on the opposite ends of the law. If Max and Fern were real, they would sneer at Deeks and Kensi's real jobs. It was a good thing they were not real.

As Deeks had plainly showed, Max represented a darkness that he was deeply repulsed by. But the intense passion felt powerfully real. As Deeks told Kensi that morning outside the beach house, Max had found his match in Fern. Maybe deep down Max Gentry would still somehow find his happy ending with Fern Corelli.

Deeks stretched on his back, resting his savagely tousled head on a white fluff pillow. Kensi laid on her stomach, her nude back gorgeously exposed, scantly covered in thin white sheets. The two just silently gazed at each other with lusty, smoldering eyes.

Kensi languidly began their favorite morning ritual. She peppered kisses on Deeks' shoulder, trailing to his sensitive neck and bare chest. Several hours earlier, she'd thought for a split second that she'd lost him. It was another heart-wrenching, gut-pounding reminder of how dangerous their jobs could actually get, and how they could literally lose each other in the blink of an eye. She needed to revel in being with him. Deeks more than understood her grief and felt the same.

She rolled herself on top of him, pulling him into a heated kiss. He wrapped a single arm around her, tenderly holding her closer. Their kisses inevitably deepened, along with her thirst for him.

Just as things began to go deliciously further, an obnoxious banging rattled the door.

"Max, Francesca, get up already!" spat the annoyed voice of Angelo. "It's almost seven-thirty for Christ's sake!"

* * *

Max stepped out of Fern's suite about ten minutes later, looking as though someone splashed icy water on his face. He wore his old jeans and gray T-shirt, which chafed, because he didn't have time to wash them after his unplanned swim to Catalina. His leather jacket was still drying off in the spa bathroom.

"This better be good," Max muttered. "'Cause Fern was doing something really awesome in there."

"Get your head out of the gutter, Max!" Angelo retorted. "You had her all night. Play time is over!"

"At least I'm dressed, Hef," Max countered, snidely smirking at the mobster's silk robe. "And I'm the one with a playmate."

Before Angelo could retort, a maid came scurrying out of the bathroom, carrying cleaning supplies. She was an attractive woman, with long sandy blonde hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, had blue eyes and looked strongly familiar.

The maid stared at the thug with a frozen expression.

"M-Max?" she managed.

"Hey, Jenna," Max drawled.

"I take it you know Ray's widow?" Angelo cocked an eyebrow at Max.

"I know Ray ran around with her before he disappeared from Los Angeles," Max supplied with an uncaring shrug. "She's with you now?"

"She only works for me," sneered Angelo. "You're done here," he told her.

Jenna quickly carried her cleaning supplies to the private elevator and departed from the penthouse.

"It's a real drag," Angelo grumbled to Max. "I got stuck with her and her brat when I caught up with Ray. I'm planning on handing them over to the Southland Kings. I figure they deserved that much after Ray screwed them over."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate the gesture," Max muttered lazily.

"I'm telling you, there are times I miss the old days." Angelo sighed wistfully. "Ray was still one of us. Cocaine flowed from the south like El Nino. Everybody had a slice of the pie. Then he changed – hell – the whole world lost it – that was so uncool."

"Yeah," Max muttered in a bored tone.

Fern stepped out from her suite, sporting black jeans and a tattered black Jack Daniels T-shirt. She wore her usual slut makeup and the black choker to hide the lingering bruise on her throat. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Even though many of her bruises were still visible, she obviously didn't care. If anything, they only made her look tougher. She was brimming with badass confidence.

However, once she laid her dark, smoky eyes on Angelo's robe, she let out a classless snort. "And you had the gall to order us to get dressed!"

"I made our displeasure known," Max told her. "We were having fun in there."

"You can have fun anywhere," Fern purred, inching closer to him, rubbing his chest.

"I'm about to get dressed." Angelo winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're going to have breakfast with the ninjas, so you two better behave yourselves."

"Yeah, we'll totally do that." Max smirked as he playfully caressed his hands down Fern's hips.

"Hey, hey, don't get too frisky!" Angelo pointed a stern finger at them as he headed into his room. "Breakfast is incoming, and we all need to impress these guys."

"They sound totally awesome, and we'll definitely impress them," Fern absentmindedly assured Angelo, as Max continued groping her. "They'll think we're cool, too."

Angelo flashed a crooked smile, pleased she'd seen it his way. "I always knew you were a bright pistol." He shut himself into his room to get dressed.

Now alone, Deeks softly whispered in Kensi's ear, "Jenna is his maid. She was here before you came out."

Kensi nodded. "He was bragging about some special maid last night," she whispered. "He must've been talking about her."

"He told me he's going to hand them over to the Southland Kings," Deeks whispered. "And her and Ray's little girl is somewhere in this hotel. Along with an army of Gurkhas and an arsenal of stolen weapons."

The two fell silent. They needed to figure out a game plan. There was comfort in knowing that Jenna and Carrie were still alive. All they could do at the moment was maintain cover.

"Angelo don't like us together," Deeks said in Max Gentry's drawl.

"Nope," Kensi as Fern confirmed, playing along. "He seems to have a dirty old man crush on me."

Max scoffed and rolled his eyes. "He's delusional. Not even _he_ could afford the pills to keep up with you, or his heart would give out."

"I usually prefer hanging with younger guys for that very reason." Fern giggled, playfully eyeing Max's lips.

About twenty minutes later, Angelo stepped out of his room, sporting one of his finest gray Italian suits. He came upon the steamy sight of a shirtless Max, pinning Fern against the wall next to the door to her suite. He was kissing the hell out of her, as she tried to let out deep, satisfied moans. Her long legs were tightly wrapped around his waist.

Angelo loudly cleared his throat, putting an end to their clinch. "Didn't I make myself clear about the frisky?" he said evenly.

"Yeah, but you didn't mention getting it on," Max eventually retorted over his shoulder.

"Get your depraved paws off of Francesca!" Angelo ordered, his eyes glinting darkly. "We're going down to breakfast."

Fern nimbly unwrapped her legs from around Max's waist, returning her feet to the floor. She untangled herself from Max's unhelpful, muscular arms, and straightened out her disheveled shirt. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were hard. She was ready to carry out her duties as Angelo's bodyguard.

Angelo nodded to her and headed for his private elevator. "All right, let's have this ninja breakfast."

"Wait," Max announced. "I'm not ready, yet." He zipped up his fly. "Okay, now I am."

Fern rolled her eyes and threw his shirt at him. Snatching it out of the air, Max drawled, "Oh, yeah, right."

He took great pleasure from Angelo's deadly glare. It was immensely satisfying to piss him off.

* * *

Exiting an elevator on the hotel's third floor, Jenna Martindale, also known as Stephanie Stein, wheeled her cart out into the corridor. The cart's wheels squeaked loudly and it was cluttered with cleaning supplies.

She clambered to room 301, which was being guarded by a tough looking Asian man who worked for Angelo. There was a _Do_ _Not_ _Disturb_ sign hanging on the doorknob. The guard simply ignored her as she passed. Jenna unlocked the door. Once she'd opened it, she abandoned the cart and went inside the hotel room, firmly shutting and locking the door behind her. The room should have been a relaxing space with light blue walls, tan carpet and twin beds. Instead, it was a prison.

Coloring books and childrens drawings were littered all over the floor. Lying against the pillows on the twin bed by the window, two little girls watched cartoons together on the TV.

The smallest girl was Carrie, Jenna and Ray's three-year-old. She inherited her father's blue eyes, but her pretty face was very much like her mother's. She had an unkempt mop of blonde hair.

The other girl was much older than Carrie. She was an eleven-year-old with long sunny blonde hair. She told Jenna her name was Amelia, and she was taken from her father before they'd arrived.

Dishearteningly, Jenna learned that she and Carrie were not the only victims of whatever it was Angelo had cooking up. A scheme Jenna could only guess at. Angelo never told her anything. He was mostly condescending and bossy, which she could take. The cruel taunts about Ray's death were another matter.

Only thoughts of Carrie kept her sane. Jenna grieved for her husband, but she had to will herself to hold it together. To get herself and Carrie away from Angelo. And Amelia as well.

It seemed to Jenna that Amelia's father may have succumbed to the same tragic fate as Ray. But the girl was optimistic that he was alive and would definitely rescue them any day now. He was all she'd ever talk about. She was obviously close to him. Amelia told Jenna that her parents divorced and her mother moved far away. The girl didn't seem all that close with her mother and barely mentioned her. Jenna's heart broke for her. She tried to take her under her wing. But with each passing day, it was becoming less and less likely that Amelia would ever see her father again.

Jenna was admittedly puzzled about Amelia's father, a military man and a devoted parent, who was apparently in cahoots with Angelo. Unlike Ray, who had been a street kid and a petty criminal. Maybe Amelia's father wasn't so devoted after all.

Jenna desperately needed to devise a plan to get herself and the girls out of the hotel. But she hadn't figure out a way to dupe the ever present goons who silently guarded their room. Carrie hadn't left the room in two weeks. Amelia couldn't even remember how long she'd been there. Plus, Angelo forced Jenna to keep busy day and night as his personal maid. Amelia watched after Carrie while she worked. Jenna simply didn't have an opportunity to figure out a escape plan yet. At least not one she would bring two kids on, and she wasn't leaving either one of them behind.

She'd die first.

Then she thought about Max. It was almost too much seeing Marty again. She almost fell apart right then and there. Surely, he was investigating whatever Angelo was doing. If there was one cop in LA she'd trust with her kid's life, it was him. She knew he would help her and the girls as best he could. But with so many guards around, she didn't want to risk blowing his cover. It was best to keep a low profile for the time being. She wouldn't tell the girls about Marty until she was sure.

"How are you girls doing?" Jenna asked the kids.

"Fine," Amelia murmured from the bed, as Carrie sucked her thumb. "Just watching _Tom_ _and_ _Jerry_."

"Good, you both need to keep quiet." That was all Jenna could think to tell them.

She wished she knew why Marty was undercover as Max. God willing, it would ultimately get them off the island and bring justice for Ray.

* * *

In the lounge of The Paradise Sun Club, bright beams of golden sunlight streamed through the large windows. Thapa strolled into the room in his jeans, blue button shirt and windbreaker. He'd managed to get his clothes washed and dried since his explosive voyage to Catalina.

He scanned the room. It was crowded with vacationing tourists and gold digging locals, ordering breakfast and morning drinks. They all wore cheery and colorful clothes. The men mostly wore flashy buttoned shirts and trunks, while the women were in sundresses or bathing suits with shorts. Some even wore sun hats.

The lounge was not remotely as grand as the Vista Hotel in Los Angeles. It was decked out in tropical art deco décor with a casual looking bar at the end of the room. It used exotic plants and flowers for decoration.

From the entrance, Thapa spotted a group of Asian men gathering at a large circular booth in a back corner. He swiftly crossed over to them.

"Are you serving Vincent Angelo as well?" he asked in their native tongue.

"He owns this hotel," one of the men with greasy, shoulder-length black hair answered, also in their native language. He had a long scar running down the left side of his face. It looked like someone sliced him with a kukri.

Thapa had found the dishonorable Gurkhas.

"I only seek his merchandise."

"Then join us, brother." The scarred Gurkha welcomed him into the booth.

Thapa revealed nothing as he joined them, though his stomach clenched a little when the disgraced thug addressed him as "brother."

"Mr. Angelo has the deadliest, on-demand arsenal in this hemisphere," piped up a younger, less disciplined Gurkha with shorter hair. The group was still speaking in their own language.

"He's obviously insane," chimed in a third Gurkha. "But these kinds of weapons don't just drop from the sky. We'll make good use of them."

"Yes," Thapa agreed.

"Here he comes." A scrappy looking Gurkha gestured toward the entrance.

Angelo strode in importantly wearing ray-bans. Max and Fern trailed him.

"Good morning my awesome little army," Angelo boomed cheerfully. Several tourists turned and stared. "Are we all ready for breakfast?"

"Yes," the scarred Gurkha answered in mumbled English.

Angelo sat on the right side of the crowded booth, while Max and Fern took the left side. Max tightly squeezed between Thapa and Fern.

"Tell me, Zapa," said Angelo. "Does it feel sentimental to reunite with your fellow warrior cult members?"

"I am a stranger to these men," Thapa answered stoically. "But all Gurkhas are brothers. We are all united behind this great endeavor."

"That's the spirit!" Angelo said delightedly.

Max rolled his eyes. Did he have to be such a cornball?

"Don't worry, boys," Angelo hastily assured the exotic gang. "I didn't call you all down here just for pancakes."

"We will receive the merchandise?" asked the scarred Gurkha.

"Yes, then I'll show you some other cool things, and lay out the strategy to conquer LA," explained Angelo brightly. "We all need to build up our strength. So eat hearty, now!"

* * *

Across the street from The Paradise Sun Club, Granger peered through the cheap blinds to the window of his hotel room, squinting at the white structure before him. Intense beams of sunlight harshly glared off the building, making it blinding to see.

Granger thought this was highly fitting given Angelo's arrogance.

His cell phone rang and he found Eric Beale's name flashing on the little screen. He instantly answered. "Beale?"

" _Sir, Callen and Sam have arrived on the island. Nate is still en route with the team."_

"Thank you."

" _Are Kensi and Deeks alright?"_

"We lost contact back at the dock," said Granger.

" _Me and Nell will be out of reach, too,"_ Eric said meekly. _"I hope you give them hell."_

"Everything is falling into place," Granger mumbled. "We can't afford to have anything go to hell."

* * *

In a outdoor cafe next to The Paradise Sun Club, Ray, still donning his sunglasses and droopy fishing hat, finished off his third cup of coffee.

He stared darkly at the gleaming white building, a stony expression on his face.

His abused, aching body was shaking with adrenalin. His wife and baby girl were in that building. He was itching to cross over and get them the hell out of there.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Complications**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 16: COMPLICATIONS

This was perhaps the most uncomfortable breakfast Deeks and Kensi had to endured. Silently playing Max and Fern, they wolfed down their bacon and eggs in the circular lounge booth with Angelo, Thapa and the Gurkhas.

Angelo droned on incessantly about his fond memories of being a bright-eyed, young hood in the Big Apple, where he was harshly mentored by a minor mob kingpin named Rocko Gullipese. He'd impatiently shaped young Angelo into the cunning, focused and respectable man he was destined to become. Under his diligent tutelage, Angelo gradually climbed the underworld crime ladder, up to Gullipese's fatal demise at the hands of a rival crime family. Angelo, of course, betrayed him. Something Rocko himself would've done if he was in Angelo's position. But not all of the deceased mob boss' associates saw it that way. From there, Angelo made a new name for himself by relocating to the west coast.

"Then some illiterate coast trash chased you all the way back to Sopranos land with their cheap ghetto bullets," Max barged in on the mobster's verbal resume.

"But like all scabs, they were too lazy and stupid to finish the job," Angelo said defensively. "Now I'm back, bigger than ever!"

"Sure you are." Max shrugged.

"I'm not the type to dwell on past setbacks," said Angelo. "Even the Rat Pack had its Peter Lawford."

"That's smart," Max drawled. "But all that Hakuna Matata doesn't make it any less disingenuous for you to leave out that minor detail."

"Disingenuous?" Angelo snipped. "Where did you learn that twenty dollar word? The boys from the docks? Or is your pusher moving up in the world?"

"I think a pricey call girl yelled that at me once," Max flatly recalled.

Angelo sniggered. "The likelihood of that was quite high."

"I hate to interrupt your sparring," the scarred Gurkha impatiently interjected. "But we all finished our breakfast. We will now see the merchandise?"

"Yes, we're getting closer to that," Angelo promised. "Francesca, I hate to dump this on you out of blue, but I need you up at room 301. Relieve the ninja there and send him down here. All you need to do is stand there and look tough."

"Don't you need me down here?" Fern raised suspicious brows.

"I'm well protected." Angelo grinned. "All you're doing up there is babysitting. You can get back to watching my ass when I'm done with these guys. For now I need all my ninjas here."

"Sure." Fern got up from the booth and merely exited the lounge.

"That Francesca." Angelo smiled goofily at the Gurkhas. "She dotes on me."

"She dotes on me more," Max filled in smugly. "Thoroughly, in fact."

"Shut up, Max," Angelo grumbled indignantly.

* * *

In the lobby, Callen and Sam witnessed Kensi stepping out of the lounge. She spotted them as well, but gave nothing away, and quickly made for the elevators. She was glad to see them. They'd watch Deeks' back. But she still had to maintain cover. She was wary of what might be waiting up on the third floor. She didn't know what to make of Angelo's cryptic 'babysitting' comment. Considering he'd surprised Deeks with a tortured and beaten Ray, anything could be waiting for her.

As she stepped into the elevator, Arkady boisterously arrived at the hotel, dressed in one of his usual ten thousand dollar suits. Callen and Sam were in Alexi and Desmond's casual, up-and-coming gangsta attire.

"Are you sure about this?" Sam whispered to his partner.

Arkady quickly spotted them and bounced over. "When'z all said and done, you owe me juicy zteak dinner," the Russian grumbled to Callen.

"Yeah, me, too," Sam added.

"There'z no need to be jealous," Arkady teased Sam lightly. "It'z just Vincent is cray-cray as zee kidz say."

"He's a washed up psycho," Sam countered.

"Don't get bogged down in semantics," Callen chided. "Let's get this show on the road."

The three men strode into the lounge. Scanning the room from the entrance, Callen and Sam instantly spotted Deeks and Angelo in a circular booth in the back, along with Thapa, and a large group presumably of Gurkhas. However, Arkady smoothly pretended not to notice his rival. He and his companions sauntered straight to the bar. They ordered their drinks. Arkady slid a sideways glance at Angelo's booth.

Angelo had been eyeing him, but quickly looked away.

Smirking, Arkady picked up his pink lemonade martini and trailed over to the booth. Callen and Sam – or rather – Alexi and Desmond – grudgingly followed, carrying their own drinks.

"Vincent, wha' happening!" Arkady greeted cheerily. "You have business venture, here? You all look like business people." He gestured toward the wary Gurkhas, who were far from being conventionally stuffy business men.

"Is there some Commie convention on the island, Kolcheck?" Angelo snipped in a oily voice.

"Ho, ho, Vincent, your company don't exactly scream Americana," Arkady good-naturedly countered. "'Cept for Goldie here." He gestured at Max, who stared at the newcomer with steely eyes.

"Yeah, tubs, I'm right out of a Norman Rockwell painting," Max snorted.

"Christopher Talken and his circus freaks aren't worth your time, Arkady." Desmond placed a hand on the ex-KGB agent's shoulder. "He talks a big game, but word's been circulating that his top supplier got bagged by the feds. His sideshows already yesterday's news."

"You don't know shit, Mr. Big Mouth," Angelo said affronted. "Do you believe all of the gossip you hear? Or is your source just a dime store horoscope? Business is splendid, thanks."

"Good for you," mocked Desmond. "We're doing marvelous, too. In fact, I'm about to arrange a meet up with our contact. I guess we don't got any ninjas. But at least the people supplying my merchandise aren't in prison."

"Really?" An odd look clouded Angelo's pale eyes. "Perhaps we should discuss this further."

"Wha'?" Arkady raised amused brows. "You change tune faster than jukebox"

"We're in opposite armies," said Angelo. "We should really think about a peace treaty before things get hairy."

"Right." Arkady chuckled slyly.

"Right." The mobster chuckled back.

* * *

With the soft artificial _ding_ signaling her arrival at the third floor, Fern stepped out of the elevator. She found a Gurkha guarding the nearest door; room 301.

"Angelo wants you down in the lounge," Fern authoritatively informed the guard. "What's going on here?"

The rogue Gurkha gave an uncaring shrug. "Only the blonde may leave or enter. That's all you or I need to know. Angelo sent you?"

"Yup." Fern nodded.

The guard headed for the elevator with no further comment. Once he was gone, Kensi knitted her brow. This was obviously Jenna's room. She inspected the door, absently noting the _Do_ _Not_ _Disturb_ sign. She lightly rapped on the door. "Hey, I came to check up on you."

There was no response.

Kensi rapped more firmly. "I'm your new babysitter."

After a few quiet moments, she heard the lock click and the door creaked open. A blonde haired girl answered, wearing a white T-shirt and pink shorts. "Who are you?"

"Fern." She kept her surprise hidden. Of all the unwelcome surprises she had braced herself for, an unfamiliar kid was not one of them.

"Do you work for that Angelo guy?" the girl queried.

"Yes, I do." Fern nodded.

"Are you new?" the girl questioned precociously. "I haven't seen you around. I know all of Angelo's guys."

"I'm new," Fern confirmed. "Why don't you let me in."

"You don't have to come in," the girl said pointedly. "Your job is to watch the door."

"Well, I'm not like those other surly guards," Fern told her. "I get bored."

"I don't know..."

"It's okay. I work with the other bad guys. You won't get in trouble."

The girl hesitantly regarded the stranger. She finally allowed Fern in, but immediately shut and locked the door.

The room was musky, smelling of stale laundry. Kensi stepped over childrens drawings scattered messily on the floor. _Pokemon XY_ was on the TV. A small toddler in denim shorts and a blue shirt perched on one of the twin beds, creating a messy, colorful drawing with various crayons.

"So, kiddo, what did you and your sister do to get on Angelo's bad side?"

"I don't know." The girl joined the toddler on the bed. "She's not my sister. I take care of her for her Mom."

"That's a big job for a small fry," Fern complemented.

"I'm eleven," the girl muttered.

"Does her Mom work for Angelo?" Fern asked casually.

"Yeah," the girl replied.

"What's your name, cutie?" Fern gently prodded the toddler.

"Carrie," the small child murmured shyly. She continued coloring, never once looking at her new babysitter.

Kensi's heart jolted but she remained in character. She addressed the eleven-year-old. "And what's your name?"

"Amelia," the girl answered thoughtfully. "Why do you care?"

"Do your parents work here?" Fern inquired, still keeping her tone casual.

"My Dad's a Warrant Officer for the Navy," Amelia replied. "He'll be here soon."

"The Navy, huh?" Fern folded her arms.

"Yeah." Amelia nodded. "Vic Holdren. Ever hear of him?"

"No." Kensi's criminology brain inwardly went into overdrive. She speculated that Amelia's father was somehow involved with Angelo's cartel, either willingly or unwillingly. The mobster was holding the Warrant Officer's daughter captive, either to force his hand or cover his bases. The Warrant Officer was somehow supplying Angelo with military weaponry. That was how Angelo got his hands on them.

"What happened to you?" Amelia was staring at Fern's visible bruises. "Did you get into a brawl?"

Fern smirked. "Yeah, something like that."

"Did you win?"

"Yup," Fern answered.

"Can you take Angelo?" Amelia further asked.

"Oh, yes," Fern said confidently.

* * *

Alexi, Desmond and Arkady barely squeezed into the booth, crowded as it was, with Gurkhas, a crass thug and their greasy, diabolical mob boss. The trio sat on the same side as Max and Thapa. Arkady still clutched his pink fruity drink, while Desmond and Alexi sat theirs down on the table.

"I take it you and your boys acquired the goods?" Angelo smarmed smoothly at Arkady.

"I don't zee why we should do business, Vincent," Arkady said thickly. "You've alwayz rude to me."

"I agree," Alexi chimed in with his cultured Russian accent. "Az Mr. Angelo himself so eloquently put; we are in opposite armiez. And a army'z business is war."

"Golly, if we can't trust our comrades from Mother Russia," Max muttered.

"I'm sensing some hostility on your side." Desmond shot a dark glare at the mobster.

"Oh, Max likes to clown." Angelo shrugged, releasing an odd little laugh.

"Yeah, I clown," Max quipped stoically.

"Zip it." Angelo snuck Max a warning look, then shifted his attention back to Arkady. "You understand, of course, the impetuousness of youth. But there's no reason two experienced men of the world like us would pay him any mind."

"Of course." Arkady nodded thoughtfully. "Youth iz important. But only in small dozez. And best in zee bedroom, no?"

"I tell you what, Kolcheck," Angelo gave an amused laugh. "We trade what we know, and maybe we'll reach an understanding."

"I think he should show us his before we show ours," Desmond tersely suggested to Arkady.

"We might have more in common than we thought, ah?" Arkady mused.

"Tell you what, let's meet up again in about twenty minutes," Angelo hastily offered.

"You move fast for a man our age." Arkady chuckled.

"Less time to waste," Angelo said silkily.

"Twenty minutes," Arkady agreed.

He and his two associates slid out of the crowded booth with their drinks.

"Hey, don't keep me waiting," Angelo called after them.

Arkady gave him one last nod as he and his boys departed the lounge.

"Max," barked Angelo. "Go up to my penthouse and see if my lucky quarter is on the coffee table."

Max snorted at the ridiculous request.

"Hey, I need all the luck I can get to impress that Ruskie old fart," Angelo whined defensively.

"Would you like a horse shoe, too?" Max snipped.

"Get my quarter, you wise ass," Angelo huffed.

Max slid out of the booth, and mumbled, "Knowing you, it would still have a horse leg attached."

Once he was gone, Angelo gestured toward the scarred Gurkha. "Hey, buddy, can I speak with you for a sec?"

The Gurkha frowned and followed him out of the booth. Angelo lead him into a secluded corner with a large tropical plant.

"I'd like for you to do something for me," Angelo whispered. "I want you to go up to my penthouse and throw Max out a window."

"The foul mouthed blonde?" The Gurkha wrinkled his brow.

"Yes." Angelo nodded. "You may have noticed he has this loud, infuriating mouth that goes off like a jackhammer with ADD. He went over his limit a while back. I can't have it compromise my operation. It's too bad, he's a talented hood, and I had such plans for him. It just wasn't meant to be."

"You want me to throw him out of a window?" the Gurkha pressed.

"Yes, make it look like an accident or a suicide. You know, something that would look good in a police report," stressed Angelo. "You ninjas are supposed to be pretty good when it comes to those kind of things."

The Gurkha gave him an unreadable look, then simply walked out of the lounge.

Thapa watched them from the booth, suspicious of whatever secretive scheme they were obviously plotting.

Then the Gurkha that guarded room 301 arrived in the lounge. Angelo enthusiastically welcomed him and invited him into the booth. He ordered the man a plate of waffles, then filled him in on his plans regarding the merchandise and his designs for Los Angeles.

* * *

In the lobby, Jenna trudged out from one of the elevators, miserably waiting for instructions from Angelo. She knew he was holding one of his nefarious bad guy meetings in the lounge.

She hoped to see Marty.

Waiting rigidly by the front desk with her arms nervously folded, Jenna trailed her melancholy gaze to a random corner. A man wearing dark sunglasses, a rain coat and a floppy fishing hat sat in one of the lounging chairs. His dark sunglasses and coat collar obscured his face.

Jenna and the shifty looking man regarded each other from across the lobby. Slowly, he slid up his sunglasses, revealing his shocked, hopeful eyes to her.

Jenna's heart froze.

Ray...

"Hey, Mrs. Martindale."

Jenna started.

Angelo, with his ray-bans prominently perched on his bony nose, breezily strolled out of the lounge with his team of tough looking Asians. (Thapa included.)

"Why are you slacking off, looking all pale and emotional?" Angelo demanded shortly. "You're scaring the beach bums."

Jenna swallowed. "I'm sorry, sir. Just feeling a bit tired today."

From behind his ray-bans, Angelo scowled darkly at her excuse. "Don't worry yourself too much about it. I won't require your services forever. Now, get your ass going and tidy up the back room. You look like death is stalking around my lobby!"

The mobster had no idea how close to the mark he was. Fortunately, he didn't notice the rain coated, sunglasses figure sitting in the corner.

Ray spotted Angelo, however, and the stormy eyes hidden behind his shades were thunderous.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Exposed**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 17: EXPOSED

Still in the lobby, Jenna hesitated slightly before she moved to clean the ominous sounding "back room." Angelo roughly grab a hold of her, however, squeezing her arm tightly. "I don't know what you're on, Jenny," the mobster snarled threateningly. "But you're gonna stop with the whimpering. I have very important guests coming."

"I'm on it." Jenna glared at him resentfully.

"And you better suppress those filthy looks, young lady," Angelo warned in a cruel, taunting tone. "You're in no position to act feisty, _Mrs_. _Martindale!_ "

Jenna bitterly turned away from her abusive captor and headed for the back of the hotel.

Angelo lightly laughed at his bewildered ninjas, like he was reacting to a good-natured, clean joke. "I get on well with my servants," he said lamely.

The Gurkhas only stared at him indifferently.

Thapa quietly surveyed the lobby and found the conspicuous man in the rain coat, fishing hat, and dark sunglasses still hunched in his chair at the corner. The man didn't pay Angelo or his abrasive eccentric outburst any mind.

The warrior's worried thoughts turned back to his missing soul brother. He knew his friend was in trouble. Angelo and the scarred Gurkha were plotting against him.

Thapa began searching for a reasonable excuse to break away from the group.

* * *

The doors of Angelo's private elevator slowly slid open. Deeks wearily stepped into the mobster's cushy bachelor pad, carrying an air of heavy skepticism. He'd expected an ambush as soon as the doors opened.

On the plus side, it was nice seeing Callen and Sam back in action. The detective couldn't decide if it was funny or borderline bizarre that Angelo knew Arkady. But it wasn't that much of a stretch. Both elderly goofball mobsters inhabited The City of Angels. They likely bumped into each other in the aisles of their criminally high-priced grocery stores.

Begrudgingly, Deeks obediently checked the coffee table for the supposed lucky quarter that Angelo suddenly needed. To his surprise, there actually was such an item. Deeks picked it up and closely examined it. It was indeed an innocent quarter. But something still didn't feel right.

He heard a muffled hum coming from the private elevator. Someone was using it.

With a pleasant _ding_ , the doors slid open. The gruff looking Gurkha with the nasty facial scar glowered at him as he stepped into the penthouse. A feral gleam lit his dark eyes. The elevator doors slid closed behind him.

The detective stared at the Gurkha narrowly, but cautious.

"Angelo send you up for his lucky horse shoe?" he asked with Max's trademark snark.

The Gurkha didn't answer. He was deathly silent.

"'Cause he's pulling your damn leg," Max muttered.

The Gurkha said nothing.

"The old man's getting more forgetful in his fragile, old age," Max drawled. "Forgot he's not superstitious. He also apparently forgot he's a cliche Italian mobster, not an Irish one."

The Gurkha remained unnervingly silent, resolutely advancing on Max.

"Do girls go for the whole silent, dark ninja thing?" Max commented wryly. "Sure seems to make Angelo swoon."

The scarred Gurkha swiftly pulled out a curvy, elaborate blade. "That ignorant, jabbering charlatan only thinks we are silly Hollywood ninjas," he sneered. "You will die looking into the eyes of a true warrior."

"And this is a double cross," Max concluded with a bored sigh.

The disgraced, scar-faced warrior lunged at the classless thug. His blade flashed as it tore through empty air. Max, naturally, dodged out of the way. He reached to the small of his back, trying to draw his Smith & Wesson.

But Scarface was already slashing at him with his curved blade. He was too close to dodged, so Max just tackled him. Vaguely insulted, the Gurkha stopped trying to disembowel Max and instead threw him over his shoulder.

Far from surprised, Deeks took advantage of the split second he'd bought himself. Using the momentum from his fall, he rolled behind the couch. Grunting in pain and annoyance, he finally drew his Smith & Wesson. The op just went sideways. He needed to end this quickly.

Meanwhile, the Gurkha came up with a new strategy. Despite what the hood likely believed, a Gurkha warrior knew exactly what it meant to bring a knife to a gunfight. He quickly sheathed his blade and just as swiftly pulled out two, thin, wickedly sharp throwing knives. When the reckless hoodlum dove up from behind the couch, doubtlessly hoping to shoot him, he deftly threw them at his hapless adversary.

Seeing razor sharp death, Max haphazardly dropped back to the floor, as the two deadly blades flew just inches above his head. The knives instead penetrated the incomprehensible modern art piece behind him.

Deeks had to admit that the Gurkha knew how to use a blade. He was certainly nothing to sneeze at. But Deeks knew a thing or two about his own weapon. Drawing on his advanced NCIS training, or at least what he'd managed to pick up from Kensi and Sam, he closed his eyes and pictured the room just as he'd seen it a moment ago. He aimed his gun at where he thought the Gurkha was standing, and then shot him – through the couch.

The Gurkha cursed, his shoulder bleeding rapidly. Despite this, he lunged over the couch, again, drawing his favored blade. He was hellbent to take out his target.

Deeks was shocked that he'd managed to hit the non-ninja. But that was nothing compared to having said non-ninja immediately jump on top of you in response. Which is what he would tell Kensi later when she chastised him for not finishing off his target when he'd had a bead on him. The two men wrestled on the floor, but the Gurkha had the edge.

Deeks was sure he was going to do something heroic to save himself. Any minute now. Maybe he could wrestle the knife away from the Gurkha. That's what Kensi would do. With his arm twisted as it was now, trying to shoot his enemy was just as likely to kill himself. Maybe he could pick the smaller man up and throw him off. That's what Sam would do.

The non-ninja smiled grimly, slowly pushing his blade further and further past Deeks' guard. More than a little desperate, Deeks stopped blocking and just deflected, allowing the warrior's strength to drive the blade deeply into the floor – just to the side of his throat.

Scarface howled in frustration, but his blade was firmly lodged into Angelo's expensive tan carpet.

Max stretched out an insufferable smirk. "Don't worry about it, sahib. You're probably not the first man in this suite to have trouble getting it up."

The look on the Gurkha's face made it clear that while he had not fully understood the joke, he knew he'd been insulted. But before any retaliation could find its way to Max's face, the disgraced warrior's body went chillingly still. His expression had been twisted in fury, but was now vacant and blank. Deeks knew that look.

The Gurkha fell dead on top of him.

Too tired and sore to be freaked out, he just pushed the corpse right off. He discovered that a knife somehow struck the non-ninja in the back.

Deeks found Thapa standing in front of the couch. He assumed in all of the ensuing chaos, he hadn't heard the elevator doors opening again. The detective clumsily got up on his wobbly feet with his gun still in hand.

"Are you alright, sahib?" Thapa asked sincerely.

"I'm good," Deeks returned gracious, though winded. "Not a scratch on me. I really owe you one, brother."

Thapa nodded.

"I take it you found out about the double cross?" Deeks guessed.

"Angelo is not a subtle man. He was obviously plotting something," Thapa explained. "I managed to slip away and came to check on you, my friend."

Deeks crossed over to him and pulled him into a warm, brotherly hug. He was still carrying his freshly fired gun, so he was careful not to accidentally burn the warrior.

"I'm thankful, man," Deeks told him earnestly. "If Angelo wants me dead, than my cover's blown. That, or Max really pissed him off."

"It may be the latter," Thapa conceded. "You were grating today."

"Yeah, but Kensi could be fighting her own ninja," Deeks said worryingly. "Go back downstairs and watch Callen and Sam's backs. When this goes down, we're going to need you. I'm checking in on Kensi."

* * *

Jenna absentmindedly wiped down the impressive table in the ominous "back room." In actuality, it was more of a corporate boardroom, consisting of a long oak table and expensive leather chairs. It was the room where Angelo laid out his criminal schemes to his associates.

Intimate framed black and white photos of Manhattan and Italy adorned the walls, showing Angelo's personal touch. The arched windows looked out onto the sparkling, tropical sea.

While she was polishing the gleaming table and dusting the mahogany photo frames up on the wall, Jenna could only think of Ray. He was alive. He'd been beaten, but he was alive. Most shocking of all, he was here. But she couldn't let on that she knew any of that. Otherwise, they'd both be dead. And that also went for their baby girl.

And Amelia.

Jenna had to keep her cool. Everything was at stake.

Sluggishly weaving through waves of crashing thoughts, Jenna reminded herself that Marty was also here. Maybe he and Ray had some plan to bring down Angelo.

Once she finished, Jenna collected all of her cleaning supplies and left the room. Down the dark, narrow, and dreary windowless corridor, Jenna made out Angelo's lean outline strolling coolly toward her, accompanied by his gang of Asians.

"Is the room ready?" Angelo demanded of Jenna.

"Yes," she answered.

"Fine, go do some real work upstairs," Angelo ordered sternly. "But be ready to come when I call."

Wordlessly, Jenna made her way down the corridor. As she went, she heard Angelo commanding one of his Asians, "Hey, Zapa, pop up to my penthouse real quick and see what's keeping Max. The punk hairball is probably drinking up all of my booze."

The malice edging the mobster's cold voice sent searing anger through Jenna. She quickly shrugged it off and was glad to reach the sun-drenched lobby. She glanced over at the corner where she'd found Ray. No one was there. Jenna's heart broke a little. She would give anything just to see him again. She'd thought he was dead.

Burying her heartbreak and strengthening her resolve, Jenna decided to lose herself in her cleaning. She would hold Ray in her arms soon enough.

She retrieved her cart of cleaning supplies and went up to the fifth floor. On autopilot, she quietly and quickly cleaned two rooms, just trying to keep her mind blank. To keep herself in check to not spoil Ray and Marty's plan. If they had one. But it was killing her, not knowing what was going on.

She rapped on door 503.

"House keeping."

Like the two previous rooms, no one answered. It seemed to be unoccupied. Jenna knocked on the door a couple more times to make sure, before she used her staff key to let herself in.

As expected, she found no one in the vacant hotel room, and dragged in her cumbersome cart.

As she began dusting the furniture, a haggard figure crept up to the bathroom door. She was so single-mindedly focused on her cleaning, she didn't even notice his presence.

"Just checked in. Don't need house keeping."

With a start, Jenna gasped in surprise, but her heart immediately filled with raw emotion.

She was face-to-face with her husband. His rain coat hung loosely on his shoulders, but his dark sunglasses and floppy fishing hat were off. Jenna got an eyeful of just how beaten her husband really was. But that hardly mattered now. She could hold him much sooner than expected.

"Ray." She dashed to him, fell into his arms, and pulled him into a sweet, longing kiss.

"Of all the rooms in all of the mob hotels in all the world, she walks into mine," Ray told her, his voice cracking.

Jenna smiled, and asked, "Is this your room?"

"Something like that," Ray replied evasively. "Is Carrie alright?"

"Yeah, she's in room 301," Jenna explained. "But it's guarded. Angelo has this Asian gang keeping watch of everything in the hotel." She gently caressed his bruised, scruffy face. "What did they do to you?"

"Angelo's boys put me through the wringer," Ray exclaimed roughly. "He was trying to get to Marty. Get to Max, really."

"But Marty is here," Jenna interrupted him. "He's undercover as Max."

"I know," Ray told her. "Marty and his team are trying to bust Angelo. But, look, baby, in the last twenty minutes, I've seen a Russian mobster, ninjas, and the man who did all this to me. And that was just in the lobby. Let's grab Carrie and get the hell outta here. Angelo's dealing in hot military weapons now. Let someone else waste him."

"What?!"

"Yeah, he's lost it and is now planning an attack on LA or something," Ray said urgently. "At least, that's the gist I got. I want to get you girls outta here before things go to hell."

"Ray, wait, there's a guard outside her door and there's something else you need to know."

Jenna informed him about Amelia, how she was apparently abducted from her father who was a Naval officer, and how Carrie grew close to her during their confinement.

"Her father's in the Navy?" Ray pressed.

"Yeah, she said he's a Warrant Officer," said Jenna. "She seems close to him. She's sure he's going to rescue her."

Ray puffed out a heavy sigh and ran a shaky hand through his graying hair. "Call me crazy, baby, but that kid's father is probably the one throwing all of those weapons Angelo's way."

"Oh, God." Jenna's heart sank. "What's going to happen to her when this is over? We can't just abandon her."

"No, I guess we can't," Ray said soberly.

* * *

Outside the closed door of the shady back room, Angelo anxiously greeted Thapa, who silently rushed down to him in the dark, narrow corridor.

"Our little get-together should start soon," the mobster informed the Gurkha.

"Understood," Thapa responded. "I was checking in on Max in your penthouse as you instructed, and I found one of my brothers dead."

"What?!" Angelo said flippantly. "What's his name – Apu – Hadji – Um, the scarred-face one?"

"Correct." Thapa nodded. "Max was nowhere to be found."

"Dammit, Max is a loose cannon." Frustrated, Angelo rammed a fist into the door of the back room, but it didn't leave any damage. "Okay, I need you on patrol. When you find Max, and I know you will, kill him on the spot. Don't let him do anything that could compromise my operation. And for Christ's sake, don't let Francesca hear about this!"

"Should I go up and check in on her?" Thapa inquired.

Angelo considered this for a moment. Finally, he shook his head. "Nah, better not. I don't think she likes you boys too much." At this, Angelo smiled sheepishly. "She's just not as progressive as me. She'll stay put till I call for her, and I don't want her poking around."

"Understood." Thapa turned and left. As he reached the lobby, he passed by Arkady and his two hip, thuggish associates Alexi and Desmond. A new man accompanied them, a middle-aged bald fellow in a gray suit.

"You're a little late, Kolcheck," the mob boss accused lightly.

"Ah, you and zee jokes, Vincent," Arkady dismissed gruffly. He gestured toward the newcomer. "Meet Frank."

Angelo properly sized up the bald man. "Hello, Frank." He shook his hand.

"Vincent Angelo," "Frank" greeted in a guttural, masculine voice.

"You're Kolcheck's business partner?" Angelo inquired.

"I'm his personal Santa Claus," "Frank" claimed bluntly.

"How jolly." Angelo laughed broadly. "Please, come inside. We have much to discuss. I got some ninjas to show you."

Angelo eagerly invited the increasingly strange group of men into his circle.

* * *

Things continued to go civilly in room 301. Little Carrie still colored her drawing on the bed, being relatively well behaved. Amelia still sat next to the toddler, lazily leaning back against the pillow on the headboard, quietly watching _Pokemon_ _XY_.

Fern leaned against the wall next to the door, keeping the girls in sight. She alertly listened for any trouble out in the corridor. While they watched their show, she slid a sad glance at the girls.

"Hey, kiddo," Fern called to Amelia. "You real close with your Dad?"

Amelia gazed at her suspiciously, visibly unsure how to respond. Finally, she murmured, "Yeah, he needs me, I guess. He's also in the Navy, so he won't let Angelo keep me forever."

Kensi smiled wanly, letting Fern slip away a bit. "I was close with my Dad, too," she confided. "He was a Marine. He was my best friend."

Amelia stared at her babysitter, not knowing what to make of this unexpected heart-to-heart.

Before she could reply, a knock came from the door. A frantic, rapped one.

Kensi's hand shot to the gun at the small of her back. She peered through the peephole. It was Deeks. She creaked open the door a crack. To her relief, he was alone. She swiftly let him in.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey," he returned.

While she shut, locked, and dead bolted the door, Deeks noticed the shocked little girls sitting on the twin bed by the window, nonchalantly nodding at them. "I see Angelo meant babysitting in the actual, literal sense," he remarked. He and his partner stayed close to the door. "That's extremely rare for him."

"Who's he?" Amelia asked Kensi from the bed, clearly alarmed. Since her abduction, none of the men were allowed to come inside the hotel room. It was one of the few rules that made her feel safe.

"My partner in crime," Kensi told her. "Watch your cartoon. I need to talk to him privately for a minute."

"She's not watching a cartoon," Deeks observed. "She's watching an anime. There's a huge difference."

Somehow that comment made Amelia feel a little better. It earned a genuine smile from her.

"You can tell me the difference later," Kensi chided.

Still standing closely by the door, Deeks whispered seriously, "What is Angelo doing with these kids?"

"The toddler's Carrie," Kensi whispered.

"Ray and Jenna's baby?" Deeks whispered.

Kensi nodded. "This is Jenna's room."

Deeks snuck a quick, wondrous glance at his childhood friend's little girl, who was still innocently coloring what may have been Pikachu. Even though their sordid fates caused Deeks and Ray to lose touch, it was still hard to believe that Ray of all people had become a real father. The wannabe tough kid that used to sell guns on the streets. Sure, he'd grown up over the years, but it was still unbelievable.

And amazing.

"Do you know where Jenna's at?" Deeks asked in a whisper.

"No," Kensi whispered back.

"Who's the other girl?" Deeks asked.

Kensi filled him in about the Amelia situation, and her theories about her father supplying weapons to Angelo.

"You think the Wonder Twins know anything about this, yet?" Deeks whispered.

"They must, but we've been so deep undercover, we haven't been able to touch base with OPS in a few days," Kensi pointed out.

"And they can't exactly contact us," Deeks noted. "Callen and Sam are here undercover. Hopefully the Calvary is galloping in after them. Arkady is in on it with them, if you can believe it. Angelo knows him, which is frightening. Oh, and Angelo's trying to kill me now," Deeks added. "He sicked one of the bad Gurkhas on me."

"Are you okay?" Kensi interrupted, inspecting him for any injuries.

"Yeah," Deeks assured her, tenderly caressing his fingers across her cheek. "Thapa showed up out of nowhere like a real ninja. Dropped that fool like bad laundry. But baby, you should have seen the thing I did with Angelo's coach. I swear, Kens, I was just like a Jedi."

"Is our cover blown?" Kensi interrupted, reveling in his light, feathery touch. Her hands were still on him, searching for injuries.

"That, or Max pissed him off one too many times," Deeks muttered. "Right now, Angelo doesn't know if I'm dead or alive. He probably still wants you on his side, though."

"If the team is closing in on Angelo, shouldn't we get the girls out of here?" Kensi suggested.

"I'm all for that," Deeks agreed. "We'll get the girls out together and you can make sure they get to safety. But I'm staying here."

"That's not how we work," Kensi objected.

"Kens, I gave my word," Deeks said solemnly. "I can't leave Jenna."

"I know," Kensi snipped, holding him tightly. "You're a man of your word. But you're not going to throw yourself into the lion's den without your partner."

"Fine – we'll fight the Gurkhas together," Deeks relented. "But we have to save the girls first."

"What if we bump into Angelo or somebody on the way out?" Kensi whispered warily.

"We're Max and Fern double crossing Angelo for double crossing Max," Deeks whispered.

As Kensi contemplated his plan, Deeks affectionately rubbed trails on her bruised arm. Not seeing any other alternative, Kensi gently gazed into her partner's soft blue eyes, and whispered, "Okay."

* * *

In the back room, Angelo jovially introduced his gang of bored ninjas to Arkady's shady weapon supplier.

"Frank's" stoic reaction seemingly indicated he was not impressed by the ninjas. At least, not in the ultra way that Angelo thought he should be.

After the obviously forced pleasantries, the dangerous criminals gathered around the table and took their seats.

Angelo sat importantly at the head of the table, and gestured for "Frank" to sit close by him. "Frank" complied, taking a seat on the right side of the table, with Arkady sitting next to him, and Alexi and Desmond plopping down next to Arkady. The ninjas took the left side of the table.

Once everyone was settled, Angelo curiously asked his Russian guest, "What do you have up your sleeve, Kolcheck?"

"A rabbit," Arkady quipped impishly.

"Come on, enough with the wise cracks," Angelo grumbled.

"How about a rabbit packing bazookas and RPGs?" "Frank" suggested.

"That sounds utterly adorable." Angelo smiled dementedly.

"You're the big shot," "Frank" commented. "What's up your sleeve?"

At this, Angelo smiled crookedly. "I'll show you."

The wily mob boss made a show of pressing a specialty button hidden under the table. On cue, a group of maids came bustling into the room, each carrying weapon cases. They placed them daintily on the table.

"I bring humble offerings," Angelo proclaimed airily.

The guests pried open the cases and found the lethal contents. "Frank" shared a significant look with Alexi and Desmond.

"My gift to you," Angelo boasted happily.

"Thanks, I brought something for you, too," "Frank" said blandly. "Send them in."

In startling quick succession, heavily armed individuals in black body armor came crashing through the windows. Another team burst through the door, lead by an armed Nate.

"Frank," Alexi and Desmond launched to their feet, quickly drawing their own weapons.

Angelo's pale eyes bulged in shock. "What the hell is this?"

"Federal agents," Sam growled fiercely.

Angelo's deranged eyes swirled in severe rage. "Kolcheck, you bloated pig!" he shouted savagely.

Arkady chuckled coyly. "Cookies crumble that way zometime, Vincent."

"You're a total suck ass at English," Angelo lividly retorted.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: Hitting the Fan**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 18: HITTING THE FAN

Perched rigidly on his leather chair at the head of his polished, long oak table, a bugged-eyed Angelo took it all in. All the guns aimed at him, his impressive corporate boardroom all in disarray, with the once beautiful arched windows smashed through, and the stately door busted off its hinges. His ninjas remained immobile, showing no response to what was happening.

Arkady, however, sat bemused in his seat, looking so pompously smug.

Haggard, cold eyes glared at the mobster. "Hands in the air!" Granger barked.

The mobster arrogantly ignored the authoritative command. He leaned back in his chair – completely cool. "So, you fellas FBI?" he asked casually. "I always knew our paths were destined to collide."

"NCIS," Callen told him steadily, gun still pointing.

"Hands in the air," Nate chimed in, his assault rifle professionally aimed.

But the mob boss' face scrunched up in a puzzled sneer. "NCIS? What the hell is that?"

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Sam growled impatiently. "HANDS IN THE AIR!"

"Navy Investigative Service?" Angelo was clearly baffled. "I'm – being busted by Navy cops?"

"You kidnapped the daughter of a Naval officer so you could terrify him into committing treason," Granger hotly retorted. "You're selling our weapons to the worst dregs of humanity. So, yeah, you are getting busted by Navy cops! Get your hands up, Angelo, or I'll put a bullet in you!"

"I can't believe this!" Angelo whined petulantly. "This might actually make sense if you boys were FBI! I mean, do you know who the hell I am! I'm freaking Vincent Angelo!"

"Yeah, the delusional has-been," Granger countered spitefully. "We're done talking!"

But then, Angelo spotted Thapa peeling through the busted doorway. He hardly flinched when he saw all of the guns aimed at his employer.

"Talk about hitting the fan, Zapa," Angelo bemoaned. "I'm being busted by a rinky dink agency!"

For the first time since meeting the man, Thapa allowed his eyes to reflect the contempt that he truly felt for him. The cold focused stare of a true warrior. "Your stolen weapons have been reclaimed," Thapa cut in. "It was my honor to help these men put an end to you."

"WHAT!" Angelo exploded. "Zapa – you're another lousy snitch like Kolcheck!?"

"My name is Thapa," the Gurkha corrected.

He levelly eyed the traitors. The criminal Gurkhas stoically glared at the true warrior.

"Enough!" Granger slipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "Hands in the air!" He purposely started toward the mobster.

Still arrogantly ignoring the order, Angelo pressed a button hidden in the armrest of his chair. Instantly, four flash bang grenades hidden under the four chairs of his invited guests, detonated.

Fortunately, Granger, Callen and Sam had quickly gotten up when their team stormed the room, knocking all of their chairs aside.

Arkady, unfortunately, wasn't so proactive. He howled in pain.

While the Navy feds were distracted, Angelo drew his own gun and lunged after Arkady, pulling him into an awkward head lock. Angelo placed the barrel of his gun against the temple of his hostage's head. "One move and I'll blow your Russian Huggy Bear's brains out!"

"Ah, Vincent, no need to fling mud," Arkady managed to quip.

"SHUT UP!" Angelo spat loudly, making himself crystal clear that he found nothing comedic about this hostile situation.

* * *

In room 301, Kensi and Deeks glided over to Amelia and Carrie's bed by the window.

"Okay, we're getting you girls out of here," Kensi told them gently.

Amelia's eyes widened, like she was hearing blaring alarm sirens. "You guys are kidnapping us!"

"No, we're rescuing you guys," Kensi stated calmly.

"But you said you were bad guys," Amelia reminded pointedly.

"We're not," Kensi persisted patiently. "I'm a good guy working undercover."

Amelia scoffed and rolled her eyes. "For sure."

Deeks leaned over to the girl and whispered conspiratorially, "We're cops. Our team is moving in to bust the guy keeping you here."

"For real?" Amelia dared not come across as too hopeful. But she was too young and naive to accurately fake not being vulnerable.

"Yes, and I'm friends with Carrie's parents," Deeks added. "My name's Marty. We're getting Jenna out of here, too."

"Are you bringing me back to my Dad?" Amelia asked softly.

Deeks didn't know the situation with Vic Holdren. If he was dirty, then he was looking at many, many years of hard time. Deeks didn't want to lie to the heart-sick little girl, but the important thing was to get her to safety. In order to do that, he kinda needed her to corporate.

"Yeah, I'll get you back to your Dad."

Amelia took a moment of quiet contemplation. She was still clearly undecided if she should trust him.

Finally, she relented. "Okay, I guess I'll let you save me."

Deeks grinned. "You're in luck, I have a special knack for saving gorgeous blondes," he complemented the girl, as he easily lifted her up from the bed.

"Oh, really?" Kensi was quite visibly amused as she picked up Carrie.

"You have a knack for it, too," Deeks charmed, as he balanced Amelia on his hip, who in turn wrapped her arm around his neck. "I should know."

Kensi couldn't help but smile brightly as she secured Carrie in her arms.

"Hey, Fern, did you mean it when you said that your Dad was a Marine and he was your best friend?" Amelia asked out of the blue.

"Yes." Kensi gazed at the blonde girl honestly. "And my name's Kensi."

"Kensi?"

"Yeah, it's my real name."

Deeks absorb the scene quietly. It always warmed his heart to see the woman he loved opening up to a child.

"Okay, blondie, let's get our gorgeous tresses outta here," he said to Amelia.

Abandoning the colored drawings on the bed and floor, and leaving the noisy TV on, Deeks and Kensi crossed to the door with the girls safely in their arms. The partners glanced over at each other, silently donning their game faces in case of the worst. As soon as Deeks opened the door, they bumped into Jenna just inside the doorway. She was startled, but relieved. "Marty."

"Jenna, glad you're here." Deeks sighed, relieved she wasn't another one of Angelo's Gurkhas. "You just saved me a trip. You're being rescued. There's no time to explain."

"Wait, Ray's here, too." Jenna blocked them at the doorway.

"What?!" Deeks was displeased to hear this.

"Yeah, he wants to sneak me and the girls out of here while your team gets Angelo," Jenna explained quickly.

"So, you really are good guys." Amelia smiled radiantly in Deeks' arms.

Deeks, however, was pissed that Ray went behind his back again. Especially after he literally swore to protect his family. But he'd known Ray was prone to this. He proved that he'd do anything to protect his family just a few short years ago. Deep down, Deeks knew he couldn't possibly blame the man. If he was in Ray's shoes, he knew damn well he would've done the same.

But he was stuck in Max's shoes and really didn't need this.

"Where is he?" Deeks asked.

"On the fifth floor," Jenna replied.

"Can you find him without setting anyone off?" Deeks asked.

"Yes."

"Get him and meet us outside," Deeks instructed hurriedly.

"You'll keep the girls safe?" Jenna was obviously torn.

"Yes," Kensi answered, holding Carrie more securely. "It's too risky for you to wander around with them. We'll sneak them out while you get Ray."

As Jenna rushed to the elevator, Deeks and Kensi decided to take the girls down the stairwell.

* * *

Granger and his expertly trained team held their ground, as the unhinged mob boss held Arkady at gunpoint. Angelo's eyes were dark, unfocused, and ferocious, like a rabid animal.

"Just let Kolcheck go, Angelo," Granger growled undaunted. "One more murder won't get you out of this."

Angelo cackled, his face seemed frighteningly more crazed. "You honestly think I'm that defenseless!"

"We have you surrounded," Callen cut in rationally.

"Most of zeez guys don't like me much, Vincent," Arkady hesitantly divulged.

Sam had positioned himself in the far right of the room. It kept him out of the way of the more heavily armed agents. It also gave him a better angle to protect his team. But right now, it meant he was the only one who had a clean shot at Angelo. The mob boss was jittery, never staying still for a second. Sam slowly exhaled, steadied his hand, and waited for his moment.

But in that instant, two gunshots rang out behind him. Their team scattered as the two agents nearest to the door fell dead. Once the gun barrels aiming at them strayed, the Gurkhas attacked. Two of them whipped out throwing knives, while three more drew hand guns. Callen shot two rounds into the chest of one of the gun-packing Gurkhas. But Granger had to dive to the floor in order to avoid a throwing knife to the face.

Nate had most of his team engaged in a fierce fire fight out in the corridor.

"I have a team, too!" Angelo yelled. "This joint's chuck full of my loyal ninjas!"

The Gurkhas gaped at him like he'd just lost the last of his marbles. But they didn't have the luxury of placating him. This was a fight for their lives.

The agents paid even less attention to Angelo. Most of them had given up on shooting the Gurkhas, and were now using their assault rifles as makeshift shields from their knives. Sam wasted three rounds, desperately trying just to wing a particularly sinewy, nimble ninja.

Frustrated by his lack of progress, he merely stood still and waited for his target to reach him. When the whirling Gurkha was finally close enough to attack, the ex-SEAL parried his blade with the barrel of his hand gun, simultaneously throwing his left fist into the stomach of the acrobatic ninja.

Callen shot another Gurkha in the back as he tried to finish off one of their armored teammates on the floor.

Meanwhile, Granger was back up and trying to coordinate what was left of the team. He had to shout over the rapid gun fire out in the corridor. The Gurkhas were giving as good as they got. Many more agents lay dead on the floor.

But Angelo had no time to survey the damage. This wasn't his kind of scene. He threw a petrified Arkady to the floor. Taking full advantage of the disastrous carnage, he ducked behind his chair, and crawled on his hands and knees across the floor. His gun was in his right hand, so most of his weight was on his left, which he promptly sliced open on a shard of glass littering the carpet from the destroyed windows. Leaving a trail of bloody hand prints behind him, he desperately scurried to the nearest window.

"Don't let Francesca find out about the damn Navy cops!" he hollered to no one in particular.

Pathetically, he flopped out of the window.

Granger watched him go, but was presently caught up in the melee. Sam dropped the last of the gun-toting Gurkhas.

But losing their brothers didn't dishearten them. It only made the Gurkhas fight harder. Granger had to hand it to them. Scum or not they were warriors.

Thapa got caught up in a fierce knife fight with the young, undisciplined Gurkha. They were lightening fast, slashing with swift acrobatics. Thapa performed a high back flip over the table, while dodging away from his opponent's blade.

"How could you do this!" the young Gurkha demanded emotionally in their native language. "Angelo was nothing, but we are your brothers!"

"I was never with you," Thapa stated serenely. "My loyalties only lie with my true brothers."

Enraged, the young man blindly charged after the older warrior with his kukri. Behind his back, Thapa switched his own blade from his right hand to his left. In a flash, the younger warrior's blade tore at Thapa. Thapa just as swiftly side-stepped the attack.

As he'd expected, the angry young man had over committed. Thapa whipped his left arm around, plunging his own knife into his young adversary's heart. With wide, blank eyes, the young man bonelessly fell into Thapa's arms.

The true Gurkha watched him drift, a little sorrow filling his heart. He was so young. It was heartbreaking that he'd went so far astray.

Stoically, Thapa took in the rest of the room. Many of the shamed Gurkhas had fallen.

"Thapa, you good?" Callen called to him.

"I am good," Thapa returned.

Meanwhile, out in the corridor, the fire fight had wound down. Agents began streaming back into the room. Nate was among them, but he left half of his men out in the corridor just in case.

Sam gave him a complementary fist bump. "You did good."

"You know, practice makes perfect." The psychologist modestly shrugged.

Hesitantly checking behind the now bullet-ridden table, Callen found Arkady on the floor in the fetal position, his backside faintly smoking.

"You sure earned that steak dinner?" Callen lightly complemented.

"You owe me new pants," the haughty Russian retorted.

All the while, Granger darkly stared out the window Angelo escaped through. He was desperate to get after him. After all this, he couldn't let that psycho get away.

* * *

Out on the sunny, back patio between the hotel and the beach, Angelo gracelessly stumbled on his own feet, as he shamelessly fled from his hotel. His gun was still clutched tightly in his right, blood-stained hand, but it was shaking badly. His left hand still bled freely, drizzling down onto the glistening white pavement.

Squinting against the annoying rays of sunlight, he rounded a corner at the end of the building, and bumped into a pair of starkly familiar faces. Max and Fern stood before him, each carrying a little girl. They seemed to be conducting their own kidnapping.

"Max – Francesca - " Angelo panted breathlessly.

Noting how worn and defeated he looked, Fern merely kicked the gun out of his bony hand. It landed unceremoniously yards away from them on the sands of the beach. She and Max then drew their own guns, each still securing their own kid.

"What's up," Max drawled.

The mobster submissively raised his bloodied hands. "I – I know y-you're both upset about – a-about the attack ninja," he stammered uncontrollably.

"Other then pissing us off, you've managed to squander all of your weapons and connections," Fern drawled. "And your ninjas apparently couldn't even last a single fight."

"No, I still got this," Angelo declared stubbornly. "We still got our meal ticket." He gestured toward Amelia. "We can start over. Just the three of us."

Max sniggered and shook his head. "I think grandpa is having a senior moment. You're dog meat, man!"

"No," Angelo denied. "No – it's not over."

The cold barrel of a pistol nudged the back of his greasy head and prominently cocked.

"No, it's really over, man. Fat lady's gonna sing a tune straight through your empty skull."

Right then and there, Angelo thought he was going to have a coronary.

That voice. That bitter, resentful growl.

"Ray?" he croaked.

But that just couldn't be.

Behind him, a rain coat clad Ray pressed his gun to the back of the gaunt slimeball's head. Jenna briskly stepped up to the mobster and punched him square in the jaw. His head snapped to the side, but her husband kept him in his sights. She then softly gazed over at Carrie. The girls didn't seem to know what to make of this.

"I don't get it," Angelo mumbled, a little dazed from Jenna's assault. "Max wasted you. I saw your body."

"You were never quick on the uptake," Ray bragged.

Angelo gazed at Max desperately hurt.

He and his warrior woman still had their guns trained on the fallen kingpin.

"Max – Ray was a dirty pig feeder. I mean, I know you two have history – but – why did you - " he couldn't finish his sentence.

Max scoffed. "You made me wear a turtleneck."

Angelo was at a lost for words.

Jenna crossed over to Fern and took Carrie. Max let Amelia slide down from his arm, and she quickly went straight for Jenna. The three scurried away from the guns.

Angelo stood in their cross-hairs, looking rather lost.

The shaggy thug heaved a sigh. Somehow, he'd always known it was going to turn out this way. Especially with Ray pulling his Leroy Jenkins impression. It seemed rather fitting. He gave the mobster a blank, condescending look. "Detective Marty Deeks, LAPD."

Angelo was now certain he was going to have that coronary.

"You're – a cop?"

"You were played," Deeks said heavily. "This was all a setup."

"You – you've been a cop all this damn time!" Angelo said flabbergasted. "All those years?" He gestured frantically toward Ray behind him, who still had his pistol planted at the back of his skull. "And you've been his lousy snitch!"

"We're the ones with all the guns now, pal." Ray aggressively poked the barrel of his gun to the back of the mobster's head. "Try not to sound stupid for once in your life."

"This is truly heartbreaking," Angelo murmured sadly. "We – the three of us – we had history."

"Forgive me for not weeping!" Ray spat viciously. "Since you kidnapped my family, tortured me, and left me for dead!" His trigger finger had gone dangerously shaky.

"Ray," Deeks interjected.

"And you!" Angelo shot at the detective. "What kind of dumbass name is Marty Deeks?"

"The kind that doesn't sound like an off-brand Ninja Turtle," Deeks countered.

Angelo then shifted his gaze to the woman Max called Fern. "And you. I take it your name's not really Francesca?"

"Special Agent Kensi Blye," she told him coolly. "NCIS."

"What?" Angelo hissed irate. "You're with those stinkin' Navy cops that tried to bust me back there!"

"Correction, we _did_ bust you," Kensi countered evenly. "There is no try."

As she reached for her cuffs, Angelo shook wildly. "No, no, I'm not the one who's busted here!"

Like a warped trust exercise, he fell back first into Ray. The haggard torture victim was unprepared. The gun held in a death grip, Ray simply couldn't react in time. The arm holding the gun stiffly slid past Angelo's shoulder.

Surprisingly well coordinated, Angelo reached up and grabbed the gun that was now dangling right in front of his face. Taking hold of Ray's arm while he was at it, Angelo whipped Ray's shocked, unresistant form between himself and the Navy cops.

Ray, however, had no intention of ever being Angelo's victim again. Elbowing him in the gut, and wrestling him to the ground, the two tussled over control of the gun.

Deeks and Kensi looked on tensely. They couldn't risk shooting at Angelo, for fear of hitting Ray.

Presently there was a gunshot and both parties stopped moving.

Immediately dropping Carrie off with Amelia, Jenna rushed to her husband's side. Desperately grabbing him by the shoulder, she pulled him off the gaunt mafioso. Grunting in pain, Ray stumbled to his feet.

"Did I get him?" he asked winded.

Kensi and Deeks advanced on Angelo. He wasn't breathing.

Jenna buried her face in her husband's neck. "You did it, babe," she whispered softly.

Amelia lead Carrie to her parents. Ray delicately bend down and finally held his daughter. Finally...

Deeks leaned over the mobster, preparing to take his pulse.

Amelia crossed over to Kensi. "Can you bring me to my Dad now?"

Seeing the uncertain, slightly lost expression on her face, Kensi softened her gaze and lowered her gun. "Kiddo, I promise everything's gonna be alright."

Deeks holstered his weapon in the back of his jeans, and lifted the spindly arm of the dead mobster. Pressing his fingers to his wrist, Amelia watched on impassively.

Kensi was about to suggest they meet up with the rest of the team.

But everything changed when Angelo leapt off the concrete.

Jenna and Ray were too wrapped up with each other and Carrie to react. Angelo had plowed into Kensi's knees as he got up, knocking her to the ground. Deeks was bent over and unarmed, giving Angelo all the time he needed to swoop up Amelia and bolt. The girl screamed.

"No!" Jenna cried.

"Kensi! Marty! Help!" Amelia cried.

Angelo was already disappearing into a crowd of panicking tourist out on the beach. He turned around, shouting belligerently, "Anyone follows me and she's dead!"

But just as he turned, a gunshot rang out from the hotel, drilling the mob boss through the shoulder. Staggered, and more than a little scared, Angelo backpedaled and ran, Amelia screaming all the while.

Granger stood at the corner of the building, smoking gun in hand.

"Angelo's got a hostage," Kensi reported urgently.

"Amelia Holdren?" Granger pressed for confirmation.

Kensi nodded.

"I'm calling in a chopper. Get after..." Before Granger could finish his order, Kensi and Deeks were already chasing after the lunatic mobster.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: The Italian Beacon**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 19: THE ITALIAN BEACON

Out on the gorgeous Catalina coast, Deeks and Kensi worked their way through a hysterical crowd of panicking vacationers. The gun fire, screaming, and death threats worked the crowd into a tangle of terrified obstructions.

Finally forcing their way through the fleeing lemmings, the partners scanned the beach. They couldn't see any sign of Angelo. Not even pausing for a breath, Kensi lead the way toward his yacht, _The_ _Italian_ _Beacon._

Running flat out, they swiftly reached the docks. As Kensi feared, Angelo was escaping on his luxury yacht with Amelia as his hostage. She and Deeks could only watch helplessly, as the boat smoothly sailed away as though nothing criminal had happened.

Kensi seethed in impenitent fury. Deeks at least had a phone call.

"Yeah," he hastily answered.

" _I'm_ _in_ _the_ _chopper_ ," came Granger's gruff response. _"You have eyes on them?"_

"He just cast off on his yacht," Deeks relayed. "They're about three-hundred yards out and moving south. He's got Amelia."

" _I'm en route now, I'll inform the Coast Guard,"_ said Granger.

Deeks wordlessly ended the call, his attention already on his partner.

Kensi had dashed to the other end of the dock. Running to keep up with her, he arrived as she was ripping the canvas cover off of a silver and blue Kawasaki jet ski.

"I can hot wire it," she insisted.

He nodded, but she wasn't looking at him.

She already had some of the internal wiring exposed. Deeks stepped back and appreciated the view of his dexterous girlfriend hot wiring the high-end pleasure craft. Bent at the waist, she hissed in frustration as the motor turned over but failed to engage. But with an extra twist of her wrist, and a slow sway of the hips, a throaty purr reluctantly rumbled out from the jet ski.

Deeks could hardly blame it.

With a triumphant fist pump, Kensi jumped on the back, leaving him to take the driver seat. Never one to leave his lady bird waiting, Deeks quickly mounted himself. Kensi didn't let him drive often. It was a huge honor.

"Do we have a plan?" he asked over his shoulder, as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Storm his boat, kick his ass, and saved the girl," she answered bluntly.

* * *

On board the escaping _Italian_ _Beacon_ , a terrified Amelia hid behind a small, white couch in the back corner of the luxurious art deco cabin. Her white shirt was stained with Angelo's blood.

Her insane captor anxiously peered through the cream curtains of the windows, wincing in obvious pain.

Silently watching from her hiding place, Amelia thought he was literally going to explode from the inside out. Like in a Warner Bros. cartoon. His face was bright red and dripping with sweat. His eyes were bulging with rage. She'd never seen anyone this mad before.

Angelo clung to his useless shoulder. It was losing blood rapidly. That damn bullet might've hit an artery or something. His attempts to stop the bleeding were pitifully feeble. But he honestly didn't give a lick about his stupid blood. His main aim was to get far, far away. Away from Catalina – away from California. He hoped the nobody driving his boat was at least competent enough to evade the goddamn law.

Just then, the loud, unmistakable sound of a helicopter reverberated through the vessel. A white and red Coast Guard helicopter suddenly loomed over the yacht like a sinister shadow.

Angelo cast his blurry gaze up to the clear blue sky; the white and red copter swooped down on the yacht, low enough to violently shake the glass of the windows.

Leaning in close to the glass, the lackey sailing the yacht timidly gazed up at the fierce chopper from the wheel. He didn't really know what was happening, but he did know who he worked for. That was obviously the Coast Guard up there. He immediately concluded this was going to be a bad day.

"Mr. Bilge, bring down the copter!" The lackey heard his employer yell from inside the cabin.

The chopper flew low, circling the yacht like a buzzard.

Bilge scowled up from the bridge directly above the cabin. He couldn't keep the boat on course. He took a good look at the MH95 Dolphin above.

Through the prominent front windows, the haggard contours of a grizzled face briefly flashed into view, but disappeared when the aircraft maneuvered away.

"Mr. Bilge, blow that damn thing out of the sky!" Angelo hollered madly from inside the cabin.

The lackey gulped. Sure, he knew this cushy boat had weapons aboard, but with this relentless chopper constantly circling from above, he found his confidence waning. His sole responsibility had always been sailing Mr. Angelo between California and the nearby islands.

He was part-time gangster second and a full-on boat captain first.

"Mr. Bilge! Do something!" Angelo screamed.

Stepping away from the wheel, the lackey ran a shaky hand through his short graying hair. It looked like he was going to have to earn his pay for once. Pulling open the door to the bridge, he took another quick look up at his enemy. Shaking off his trepidation, he made his way to the bow. Bilge pulled a bazooka out from a hidden compartment on the deck. He had some paramilitary training, so he had it loaded in seconds. Relying on muscle memory, Mr. Bilge hoisted the weapon and drew a bead on his target.

Quickly he fired.

The chopper swooped high and to the left, nearly avoiding a tail strike.

Bilge prepared to fire again, but was rudely interrupted by a bullet shattering through his pelvic bone. Grunting in shocked anguish, Bilge fell to the deck. Two-hundred yards away, Deeks and Kensi sliced cleanly across the choppy surf on their requisitioned jet ski. Kensi held her gun securely from behind her partner's back. Her arms were braced on his shoulders while he steered.

Bilge could barely breathe through the pain. Somehow he pulled himself up to the railing. Clenching his jaw to keep from screaming, he lugged the bazooka up to eye-level. He wasn't going down without a fight. He was taking them with him. He couldn't feel his hands, which meant he was going into shock. He needed to shoot fast. His finger tightened on the trigger, but it was not meant to be.

The helicopter descended like an avenging angel, hovering a mere ten feet above the ocean, and directly between him and the pursuing jet ski. This close in the down draft from the copter's rotors might as well have been a hurricane. The yacht heaved violently. Mr. Bilge and his weapon tumbled harmlessly overboard.

"Bilge, for the love of Pete, blow it up!" Angelo tumbled in all the upheaval, unaware of what happened.

With Bilge's demise, Deeks and Kensi were free to close in on the yacht.

Up in the Coast Guard helicopter, Granger ordered the pilot to continue circling the perimeter. It was up to Deeks and Blye now.

Using the sound of the helicopter as acoustic cover, Deeks slipped up beside the yacht. Kensi athletically leapt off the jet ski and boarded. Deeks pulled himself up to the yacht's railing, but was careful to kick away the jet ski. He was done giving Angelo chances to escape.

"Mr. Bilge?" the duo heard the mob boss shout inside the cabin.

Deeks climbed up to the bridge and quickly turned off the engine.

Inside the cabin, Angelo grew belligerent. "Mr. Bilge?" Receiving no answer, he called out again, but his voice was cracking. Sweat dripping into his eyes, he squinted through the windows. He found no sign of his last remaining lackey. The boat wasn't moving and he couldn't hear the engine.

Tightly clutching his blood drenched shoulder, Angelo stumbled over to his medicine cabinet and clumsily rummaged through it. Little white boxes and bottles of medication fell haphazardly to the floor. But he found what he needed.

The dying mobster clutched a bottle of prescription painkillers in his quaking hands. With absolute classlessness, he gulped down the entire bottle.

Amelia remained hidden behind the couch, just trying to be invisible.

Angelo, meanwhile, felt the room began to melt around him. He needed this. Something deep and strong to dull the hot piercing pain of his shoulder and shredded hand. Also his jaw where Mrs. Martindale slugged him.

And to help him deal with the latest sack of crap this wretched coast had laid out for him.

Angelo grabbed the revolver he always kept on board his vessel in case of solicitors. He opened the door a crack and peered through it. The deck was empty, but he didn't buy it for a minute. With surprising eloquence, Angelo quipped, "You know, I never was much of a pig caller. How about you boys step on out."

The yacht swayed gently on the warm, crystal blue sea. Not even a seagull disturb the solitude. Sighing in exasperation, Angelo blindly fired his revolver into the cabin behind him. Amelia wasn't hit, but she screamed anyway.

Angelo waited a heartbeat before he sarcastically continued. "Guess since I'm all alone, I might as well kill my hostage."

Despite the tense, frustrating situation, the fleeing mobster found it hard to focus on the here and now for more than a few seconds. Before his mind would wander. His entire life wasn't flashing before his eyes, just his mistakes.

He remembered Mr. Benedict's warning about that Max punk... Stabbing Rocko in the back... The ill-fated deal with his ninjas... Letting that hussy from the Southland Kings get under his skin... Ray and his family...

… But mostly Francesca...

God! He let himself care for her!

Heeding his threat, the narcs revealed themselves. He saw the two posers aiming their guns at him like total cops. Somehow it didn't surprise him that she and that pig Max caught up to him.

That's what mistakes were suppose to do, right?

"Hey!" Angelo yelled through the crack of the door. "I would say welcome, but I didn't invite you assholes!"

Deeks and Kensi said nothing. They shared a quick glance but held firm.

"I take it you're here for the kid." Angelo found himself growing dizzy. His shoulder still oozed dark blood. But he was determined to hold himself together. Thankfully, the painkillers were working their magic. Right now, it felt like his shoulder was filled with rainbows and powdered sugar.

"Is she in there!?" Kensi demanded in a very no-nonsense tone.

"S-Sure," Angelo slurred, his vision going blurry. His shoulder felt great. But his stomach was starting to cramp, though.

"Amelia!" Kensi called. "You in there, kiddo?!"

"Kensi!" Amelia pipped up from her hiding place.

"Yeah, yeah," Angelo snarled. "Well establish she's a-okay!"

From her hiding place, Amelia took in her captor's woozy condition. She knew it was because he'd lost so much blood, and probably all those pills he'd gulped down. The mobster wobbled on his feet. She wished he would just faint.

Out on the deck, the partners noticed his condition through the small crack of the door.

"You need help, Angelo," Deeks said rationally. "Let the girl go so we can get you to a doctor."

"She's stayin' 'ere," Angelo slurred his words some more.

While he was distracted, Amelia slowly crawled out of her hiding place. She glanced up at the windows as she scampered silently across the floor.

"Give us the girl!" Kensi shouted tensely out on the deck.

"I really love, too, Francesca," Angelo muttered incoherently. "But that's not your real name, so, too bad! You didn't have to be a trampy cop pig mistress. I don't get it. You're a hell of a looker. That should take you places!"

"Kens, he's high," Deeks whispered to his partner.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Kensi quietly amended. "He's delirious."

"Pain killers," Deeks conceded.

"Do you think we could..."

"What you jerks jabber 'bout!" Angelo loudly demanded

It was more and more clear to the partners that Angelo was even less sober than usual.

"Oh, never mind! 'Course, you pricks are talkin' 'bout moi!" he babbled.

"We can help you," Deeks offered.

"Shut up, you ass wipe!" Angelo retorted. "I always hated you!"

Standing on her tip-toes, Amelia reached up to the window. Shoving the glass with her fingertips, it slid open.

"Look, Angelo, if you don't give yourself up now, you're gonna drop dead anyway," Deeks warned.

While the adults threatened each other, Amelia silently climbed up to the window. Luckily, she was obscured from view by a small bulkhead framing the yacht's galley. Sneakily, she dropped down to the deck.

"Like you could kill me!" Angelo scoffed. "WE ALL KNOW I'M ARMED!"

Angelo turned to a small built-in wardrobe next to the door. He grabbed a duffle bag from the shoe drawer and plopped it down on the floor. His hands were slick with sweat and blood, but he managed to zip it open. He gazed down lovingly at his personal hand grenades. They were all that remained of his first shipment from Holdren. He'd held on to them like a keepsake.

Outside, Amelia frantically searched for a place to hide. But the deck of _The_ _Italian_ _Beacon_ offered little in the way of cover. Since she was exposed on the deck she went for the roof. Quietly as she could, she climb to the bridge. Peeking out over the side, she waved at Deeks and Kensi, capturing their attention.

"Francesca." Angelo's brow was overflowing with perspiration. "You don't have be some unholy, back-stabbing bitch! I'll still help you out. You know the perks. You can still go places!"

Kensi shrugged at Deeks. They knew that Angelo's only leverage had just flown the coop. But until Amelia was safe, and Angelo was in custody, she wasn't taking any chances.

Kensi communicated this to her partner with her eyes, but aloud, she called, "Sure, Angelo, come out! Let's just blow this Popsicle stand."

"Yeah, let's," the mobster chuckled.

He selected a shiny, green grenade. Though he was careful to hold down the safety lever, he pulled the pin without a care. Chuckling a little, he hid his fatal weapon behind his back. He disjointedly stumbled out of the cabin.

Deeks and Kensi finally saw Angelo for themselves. He looked like total hell. His shoulder was covered in glistening, matted blood, his gaunt face was unnaturally pale, and his hair was oilier than ever. Half of it glued flat to his skull, while the rest stuck up in stiff, spiky ringlets.

The fact that he was hiding something behind his back was painfully obvious. Even if it wasn't obvious, the look in his blood-shot eyes would still give him away.

"So – basically – heartlessly - " Angelo was making his play. "You have a thing with this furry douche bag?" He was clearly addressing Kensi.

She and Deeks still had their guns on him.

"He's my partner," Kensi told him.

"Til death do you part?" Angelo was ready to pass out.

"Hands in the air!" Deeks commanded.

"Eat it, Max!" Angelo spat hatefully.

The partners shared a knowing glance. Angelo revealed the grenade with a hideous flourish.

Without hesitating, Deeks fired three rounds into Angelo's torso, but Kensi had a little more presence of mind.

Recognizing the grenade for the terrible threat it was, she adjusted her firing angle, aiming for the small, egg-shape explosive in the mobster's hand.

Her Dad explained it like this; when you pull the pin on a grenade, you're basically just lighting the fuse on a firecracker. Of course, the problem was all the shrapnel and plastic explosives wrapped around it. Which is why the movies had it wrong. Shooting the grenade wouldn't set it off. It would only shatter the shell around the firecracker.

And he was mostly right.

The wasted bits of grenade fell to the deck at the same time as the dead mobster.

Deeks whistled softly. "Damn, Kens, did you just kill a hand grenade?"

His partner wasn't taking chances. Planting her foot on the dead man's chest, Kensi held a gun to his head in one hand, and took his pulse with the other.

Since Kensi was on top of the Angelo situation, Deeks went up after Amelia. He wanted to keep her away from the body.

Meanwhile with the corpse, Kensi finished examining Angelo. He definitely wasn't alive, which was why she didn't feel guilty for accidentally stomping on his sternum.

Since Deeks had always been better at dealing with kids, she decided to secure the cabin. Stepping away from Angelo, Kensi made for the door of the cabin. It was then she noticed the smell of burning nylon and the smoking duffle bag near the door.

With a sinking stomach, she peeked inside. The Special Agent found about a dozen grenades and one cracked firing pin. After Kensi destroyed the grenade in Angelo's hand, the little explosive that was suppose to set off the grenade landed inside the bag, setting it on fire.

Sometimes it seemed like the universe was desperate to kill her in a explosion. She would complain about how unfair this all was, but she didn't have time.

"BOMB!" Kensi shouted at the top of her lungs.

Trusting Deeks would take care of Amelia, she ran for the aft railing, easily leaping over it and into the ocean.

The yacht erupted in a gigantic fireball.

Smoking debris was still raining from the sky when Kensi broke the surface of the water. She was desperate to find her partner. But she needn't have worried.

Part of loving a beach bum was learning to accept their bizarre quasi-spiritual link to the ocean. Deeks gracefully waded through the flaming wreckage of Angelo's thoroughly exploded yacht, Amelia riding piggy-back behind him. If Deeks noticed the additional weight, he didn't show it. Wet sandy blonde locks clung to his forehead, obscuring his vision a little, but he flashed a rakish grin anyway.

They were more than half a mile away from shore. Luckily, the jet ski hadn't drifted far. Deeks lead the way to the trio's getaway vehicle. With young Amelia sitting in front, and a floating inferno at their backs, the partners returned to Catalina in style.

Finicky spectators crowded around on the beach, to better view the fiery mess out on the ocean. The local police were on hand, keeping the crowd at bay, as Deeks and Kensi abandoned the jet ski off shore. Deeks inspected Amelia for any injuries.

"You okay?" he asked her gently.

The girl nodded, threading her fingers through her long, wet locks. "Yeah," she replied heavily. "That was scary intense." She collapsed to her knees on the sand. The partners joined her.

"Yeah, it was," Kensi agreed, her soaked Jack Daniels T-shit clung to her skin.

"Thanks for coming to get me," Amelia murmured to them emotionally.

Kensi tenderly ran her hand through the girl's hair. "Sure thing, kiddo."

The Special Agent and the eleven-year-old shared a small smile.

"You good?" Deeks asked his partner.

"Of course," Kensi answered cockily, though a little breathless. "That wasn't our first explosion. You good?"

"I'm good," Deeks confirmed, sounding every bit as cocky as her. He raised up his palm. "All right, on top."

Kensi gave him a high-five. Amelia playfully joined in.

"Throw one at Kensi," Deeks instructed her with a wink.

Amelia and Kensi shared a high-five.

The eleven-year-old's attention soon returned to the wreckage out on the ocean."Is he dead?" she murmured. "I mean – he's gotta be. He was too tipsy to live through that."

"He's gone," Kensi whispered, reassuringly patting her shoulder.

Amelia dropped her gaze to her knees resting in the sands.

Making his way through the crowd, Granger glared down at his agents – or rather – his agent and the LAPD liaison. "Detective, that's the second boat you've blown up in less than twenty-four hours."

Deeks sheepishly gazed up at him. "Yeah, well, I didn't cause that explosion," he defended. "Angelo did. Me being there was just a coincidence."

"But you brought Angelo down?" Granger pressed.

"Actually, he brought himself down," Deeks explained soberly.

"He seemed the type," Granger grunted.

The Assistant Director gazed down on Amelia, then looked out at the waning flames marring the horizon. "But if there's one thing this team is good at it's getting the job done. Even if it's over the top."

 **Rest In Peace Miguel Ferrer**

* * *

 **Conclusion In The Final Chapter: All In**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: Los Angeles or any of its characters**

* * *

CHAPTER 20: ALL IN

After the flaming shell of Angelo's yacht was extinguished, the Coast Guards fished out most of a charred body. The pieces were unidentifiable, but DNA tests later confirmed it was Angelo. Another body was found weeks later by a fishing boat; the lackey that helmed Angelo's yacht. He was weighted down by his heavy bazooka, and sank straight to the bottom.

Upon receiving these reports, Deeks blew out a heavy breath. One of his most intense cases since he'd joined the LAPD had finally come to a close. Thankfully, he came out of it with all of his parts intact.

He'd known many wise guys during his professional life, but there'd never been anyone quite like Vincent Angelo. Sure he was irredeemably evil, but he was also sharp as a razor in his own way, and had way more style than brains.

A part of Deeks thought he might actually miss him. Especially compared to one of their more pedestrian terrorists. But in the criminal underworld, a chaotic end was often inevitable. Especially when the criminal in question was an ambitious, undisciplined psychopath.

Deeks was certainly glad to have the mobster out of his life. So were Ray and Jenna. Their long nightmare was finally over.

Deeks was beyond relieved that Ray got his girls back.

But the detective's good vibes were instantly harshed when Thapa had to make a hasty departure back to Nepal. Once the dust settled at The Paradise Sun Club, EMT's revived one of Angelo's fallen Gurkha squad, and he was quickly taken into custody. Thapa was charged with transporting him back to their country. He also had his own family to get back to.

Deeks deeply wished he had more time to hang out with his brother. He was such a cool guy. He hadn't even got a chance to introduce him to Ray. But the Gurkha soldier was anxious to return to his beloved wife and children. He shared a fond farewell with his American detective friend.

"It was good to cross paths with you again, sahib."

"I totally concur, brother," Deeks warmly returned.

"You seem to have tread your frozen lake wisely," Thapa observed sagely.

"Me and her," Deeks stated proudly. "I thank you for that."

"Remember that in life there are many challenges," Thapa stressed patiently. "You and your partner will face many trials."

"Then I hope you'll come save me again," Deeks told him sincerely.

"I hope so, too," Thapa graciously replied. "Take care, my friend. And thank you."

Ray's departure was even more abrupt. When everyone finally returned to LA, Amelia shared a tearful reunion with her emotionally battered father.

Holdren worked out an immunity deal, largely thanks to Hetty and Granger's connections. Amelia was back where she belonged. Back with her father. Just as it should be. She couldn't be happier.

As soon as they knew the blonde girl was going to be okay, Ray took his wife and child and quickly disappeared. It was very sudden.

Before he left, Ray vaguely hinted to Deeks that he wanted to get his family as far away as possible from bureaucratic BS.

Deeks understood his friend's need to go below the radar. Ray didn't want to risk his family in the Witness Protection Program again. He turned his back on the system entirely in order to do just that.

But it sucked that he couldn't give a proper farewell to his childhood friend.

With both Thapa and Ray gone, Deeks felt royally bummed out. He truly regarded them as his closest friends. But he still had his team.

Since the return from Catalina, the team comfortably settled back into their usual routine. Callen and Sam were still their bro-dacious selves, Hetty was still Professor X and Winston Churchill rolled up into one, while Granger was as badass and curmudgeony as ever.

Sometimes during off hours, Deeks and Kensi would hang out with Eric and Nell, either by catching a movie, playing video games, or grabbing a quick bite to eat. At times, these get-togethers felt a lot like double dating. But had Eric and Nell hooked up? Neither Deeks or Kensi could possibly say. The Wonder Twins were every bit as enigmatic as they were adorable.

Over at LAPD, Bates was glad that Angelo was no longer a thorn in the department's side. He expressed his gratitude to the detective with long silences and steely glares. Bates seemed perturbed that Deeks' relationship with his partner hadn't caused a bigger ruckus at NCIS, considering he'd gone out of his way to bring it to the agency's attention.

But like Hetty and Kensi, Bates and his detective seemed to share an unspoken understanding. Bates didn't truly seem interested in breaking up Deeks and Kensi's partnership. Deeks wondered if Hetty or Granger got to him. He suspected Granger. As Deeks pointed out to the Assistant Director, Don Blye's daughter deserved happiness.

Even when he was off carrying out assignments for Hetty, Nate was still tasked with checking in on Deeks and Kensi. Even though they'd both made happy and healthy improvements in their lives, the psychological scars of their respective tortures still cut deeply. The terrors tightly clung to their ultra-graphic nightmares. The trauma would always shadow over them. But they were more than willing to face these demons together.

Other than that, life continued to be amazing. Every night, they were either at his place or hers. They were inseparable, so everything was blissfully awesome.

At one point, Kensi worried that they should take a night off every now and then. To set boundaries. But for now, she was going to live in the moment, especially since their relationship hadn't drastically affected work. She was thankful for the team's silent blessings.

However, not everything was hunky-dory in their private lives. When they relieved Julia from Monty duty, Deeks was upset to discover that his pooch had disobediently claimed the plush raccoon couple with the heart between them. The one he'd brought back from Mammoth. Monty didn't chew it up, but he loved to shake it around and sleep on it like a pillow.

"I tried to get it away from him," Julia explained exasperated. "But he really loves it. I just didn't have the heart to take it away from him. I think it reminds him of you two."

"Monty, c'mon," Deeks pleaded to the snoozing mutt. "I'll get you a manly Rocket Raccoon pillow. I got this custom made for me and Kens. Give it back."

"What!?" Kensi laughed out surprised. "You paid someone to make that!"

"I know a guy in Mammoth that makes custom plushies," Deeks admitted. "He co-owns a shop up there."

Kensi gazed down at the plush raccoons, snuggled under Monty's scruffy muzzle. "Baby, that's sweet," she admitted. "And pretty lame at the same time."

"Don't hide it, Kensalina." Deeks grinned, eyeing her smugly. "You love it!"

"It's cheesily sentimental," Kensi claimed.

"But it's totally us," Deeks insisted strongly. "Everything it represents is true. Especially what's written on the heart."

"Yeah," Kensi muttered. "And it's covered in dog slobber."

"That's really cute and corny, Marty," Julia wistfully opined.

"It looks like we'll have to share it with Monty." Kensi sighed.

"I love you, pal." Deeks gently stroke his sleeping dog's head. "But you have no respect for romance."

Monty merely snored.

* * *

It was well into February. The day was winding down as the sun set over the Mission. Callen and Sam good-naturedly bantered as they headed out. Eric and Nell had already left OPS for the day, so Kensi and Deeks grabbed their messenger bags and made for the door.

But they were halted by Hetty in the courtyard.

"I have arranged a special engagement for you, Mr. Deeks," she told him cryptically.

"An engagement?" The detective frowned.

"I took the liberty of contacting Mr. Martindale," Hetty explained.

Deeks froze. "You found Ray?"

Wide, quizzical eyes peered up at him, as the Operations Manager lightly canted her head. "Detective, I never lost him. He and his family are safe. They are acclimating to their new lives admirably. I managed to arrange a little reunion up at OPS."

"Wait, he's here?" Deeks said flabbergasted.

"No, he's on Skype," Hetty clarified. "I believe you never had the chance to bid him a proper farewell."

Deeks questioningly glanced over to Kensi. His lover merely nodded. "Go, I'll wait."

Deeks grinned at her and rushed his way up the stairs. As he climbed, Hetty eagerly gazed up at her agent.

"Care for some Scotch, Ms. Blye?"

Kensi shrugged. "Sure, why not."

She followed her diminutive boss into her open office.

Up at the OPS center, Deeks was delighted to find Ray up on the large monitor. He sat in front of a shadowy black curtain. Deeks had no idea where he was.

"Marty."

"Hey, man," Deeks greeted.

"Sorry I cut out the way I did," Ray apologized guiltily.

"It's all right, man." Deeks nonchalantly shrugged. "You're face is looking better. Well, relatively speaking."

Much of the bruises and cuts on Ray's face were fading.

He smirked. "I see you're still going for the retro Shaggy thing."

"Oh, c'mon, man!" Deeks feigned annoyance. "I get that all the time. I thought you were bigger than this."

"Zoinks! You're wrong!" Ray laughed.

Deeks rolled his eyes. "Aren't you the guy who actually wanted to be Johnny Bravo?"

"He's way cooler than Shaggy," Ray countered.

"Sure," Deeks skeptically drawled.

Things then turned serious.

"Marty, that kid Amelia, she's still with her dad?" Ray prodded, concerned. "Jenna and Carrie really took a shine to her, and Jenna's worried she'll wind up in the system."

"Amelia's good," Deeks told him. "She's with her dad. He's getting the help he needs. I think he actually loves her."

"That's great." Ray released a deep sigh. "I'm glad she's made it good. I'm trying my best with Carrie."

"You're nothing like your old man, Ray," Deeks told him.

Ray fell quiet.

"Carrie's happy to have you back," Deeks spoke through his silence.

The ex-criminal faintly smiled.

"You and Wikipedia still keeping tabs on Amelia?" He ended his silence.

"Yeah." Deeks nodded. "She gave me a Valentine's Day card. I'm her first crush."

"Oh, that poor traumatized kid." Ray sniggered.

"Just stand in her shoes. A gorgeous, debonair beach bum swept her away from her kidnappers. How else was she going to react?"

"Hopefully, she'll outgrow it," Ray muttered.

"She's been asking about Jenna and Carrie," Deeks filled in. "What can I tell her?"

"They're doing awesome," Ray happily reported. "She just can't see them again. We're on the down low permanently."

"That's a real bummer," Deeks murmured meekly. "Amelia was really attached to them."

"Yeah," Ray said just as somberly. "But she's got her dad and her own life. It's for the best."

Deeks wordlessly nodded.

"Now, finally." Ray brightened the mood. "Tell me when you pulled that blonde bottle brush of a head out of your butt, and realized you have a thing with Wikipedia?"

Deeks grinned. It was the exact opposite of how he reacted when Ray teased him about this the first time around.

He had quite the love story to tell...

* * *

Much to the sheer joy of Julia, she finally got her holiday with her daughter and her surfer boyfriend. Not to mention a reunion with the boyfriend's finicky mutt.

As planned, they went to Catalina, where they checked into a nice, beachy hotel in Avalon City that Julia recommended.

For Kensi and Deeks, it was strange to be back on the island. But their room was beautiful, and it was fortunate that the hotel allowed dogs. They even received an informal, friendly reception from some of the local law, due to their roles in shutting down Angelo's criminal hotel. (And setting the gulf on fire.)

Deeks, of course, enjoyed basking on Avalon Beach. (But it was too crowded for Monty.) Catalina had great shopping, the best historical movie theater in the world, and kickass restaurants. It was mostly decked out in fine Spanish architecture, with some Mediterranean mixed in. This time around, the lovers were free to explore all of it. They weren't just cooped up in a snooty hotel looking dangerous.

They boldly adventured across the island's rocky terrain and gawked at huge flocks of migrating birds.

During one eventful hiking trip to Two Harbors, Deeks and Kensi were enjoying a light picnic when Monty suddenly threw a fit, pacing back and forth, whimpering pitifully. Much to the puzzlement of the couple. Even the lure of leftovers couldn't calm him down. As it turned out, some harmless island mice were skittering through the brush.

"It's okay, Monty," Kensi soothed the canine. "The mice can't hurt you. I've trained with the best cat in the world."

"He thinks they're snakes," Deeks claimed.

"How do you know?" Kensi asked dubiously.

"Are you kidding!" Deeks insisted. "Just look at that eye of the tiger! He thinks we're all in danger."

"You really believe that?" Kensi muttered.

"I keep saying he'll save your gorgeous ass someday." Deeks smirked. "He wants to be your hero."

Kensi scoffed. "If he wants to be my hero, tell him to stop eating my sponges."

All in all, Kensi enjoyed their getaway. Spending time with Deeks and her mother was surprisingly comfortable. Since Julia was a city girl, they mostly hung out at night, often at the Catalina Casino. Deeks was delighted to discover that mother and daughter shared the exact same taste in movies.

They'd even wound up attending a yacht party with her. As it turned out, Julia knew a lot of well-off retired hippies. They all somehow got roped into a moonlit cruise around the island. It was weird, but Julia had a great time and everyone was friendly. Monty was very confused, but in his usual, adorable way.

But as much as she enjoyed lazily lounging around the beach with her boyfriend, Kensi's wild heart longed to be out in the real wilderness. Rustic RVs and crackling camp fires were more of her vacation scene.

She yearned for the deep woods, burnt marshmallows, and the man she loved. Precisely in that order. She planned to take him on a camping trip next time.

For now, the open ocean, remote pebbly beaches, the exotic rock formations of Lover's Cove, and snorkeling through majestic kelp forests, would more than do.

One morning they came upon a small herd of wild bison, which made Kensi feel that there were at least some proper camping vibes on the island. (Monty, of course, ran in the other direction, but Deeks was so excited, you'd think they'd discovered the last herd of dinosaurs.)

On a perfect Sunday afternoon, the lovers lazily lay together on a hammock under two shady palm trees. They were still damp from the ocean, and were wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Kensi was in a two piece swim suit, while Deeks wore white and blue trunks and nothing else. He peacefully dozed. Kensi watched him sleep, tenderly threading his scruffy hair. Since she'd watched over him after his torture, his secure, child-like unconsciousness always got to her.

In the glaring sunlight, Kensi noticed a figure strolling toward their hotel building. There was something familiar about the profile.

Kensi squinted her eyes. She made out a young woman small in stature, with tresses of blonde hair, and very funky clothes. She carefully rolled out of the hammock, hoping not to disturb Deeks. Being a ninja, she succeed in doing that. Kensi tied a towel around her waist and hurried toward the hotel.

Much to her pleasant surprise, the young woman actually turned out to be who she was hoping for. It was Astrid. She was dressed in a eclectic red and purple outfit, and had a green streak running down the middle of her long, flowing blonde hair.

Kensi eagerly rushed up to her through the light blue, open air lobby. "Hello, Astrid."

The young woman awkwardly gaped at the Special Agent.

"Hello, Kensi," she said a little formally. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has." Kensi's smile cracked.

She'd lost touch with her since her deployment to Afghanistan.

Astrid was a girl Kensi felt connected to. The girl who was on her own on the streets. Just like Kensi had been when she was younger. That was still a part of her past that was too painful to revisit.

With the agent's encouragement, Astrid turned her life around. Her super genius earned her a scholarship to a major university. She eventually managed to make some friends, despite the anti-social challenges posed by her Asperger Syndrome.

"Are you on vacation?" Kensi queried.

"I'm here with Mike," Astrid informed her robotically.

Mike was her father. A rather shifty, deadbeat one.

"I'm here with my Mom," Kensi told her.

"You're with your partner," Astrid bluntly pointed out. "I saw you cuddling with him on a hammock outside."

Kensi's cheeks slightly blushed. "Yeah, Deeks is here, too."

"You're in love with him," Astrid stated knowingly. "That's always been obvious."

Kensi was flustered. Astrid's directness and brutal honesty could be a little much at times. But she was glad to cross paths with her again.

The agent changed the subject. "How about a game of poker? Do some catching up?"

"Okay." Astrid accepted the invitation.

* * *

A tropical sunset sank beautifully at the ocean's horizon. Deeks and Kensi peacefully strolled across Avalon Beach with Monty, whom Deeks had on a leash.

Julia was meeting up with a group of her co-workers that recently arrived on the island. They were spending their evening and their disposable incomes in Avalon's boutiques, freeing Deeks and Kensi up for their stroll.

Deeks wore a T-shirt while Kensi was in a tank top. Both donned shorts. They trailed bare footprints in the cool, soothing sands. A salty breeze gently billowed by, swaying the leaves of the slightly slanted palm trees.

"Glad you caught up with Manic Pixie Dream Girl," Deeks commented casually, referring to Astrid.

"Yeah." Kensi formed a warm smile on her lips that Deeks found pretty alluring. The smile of a happy woman. In the years he'd known his special ninja assassin, he'd never seen her looking this content. He was honored to share that with her, just as she did with him.

It was an exquisite evening. The sky was an enchanting mixture of an exotic pink and deep blues, with silver stars glimmering on the blue edge of the sky.

Palm trees and the Spanish structures of the island fell into the massive shadow of the Catalina Casino. A pleasant breeze glided through the palm trees, as the waves gently swayed on the shore. The last rays of red sunlight flickered on the horizon.

The beach wasn't too crowded for once. Even the usually paranoid Monty was well at ease.

Staring out at the surf, Kensi's mind drifted to a conversation she'd had with Deeks. An intimate, if not unusual, conversation they shared on the beach outside of a certain crappy beach house.

Deeks noticed her mind seemed to be elsewhere, gently pulling them to a stop.

Monty cautiously sniffed at a seashell half buried in the sands.

"What's up?" Deeks gazed at his lover.

"Believe it or not – I'm actually thinking about Max and Fern," Kensi confessed awkwardly. "They seem to have gotten out of the Angelo situation completely unscathed."

"Yeah, I guess they did," Deeks murmured thoughtfully, glancing briefly at the surf.

"Do you still think that Fern is the right girl for Max?" Kensi queried. "I mean, in their own warped way, they were pretty committed. Angelo couldn't come between them, and trust me, he tried." She stared out at the sunset. "They seemed to be all in."

"You know how I feel about happy endings, Kensalina," Deeks warmly reminded, shifting his gaze back to her.

She met his gaze with her own.

"Max and Fern obviously had a thing," Deeks told her.

"Just like how we have a thing," Kensi added eagerly.

"And Max knows Fern is different from his usual floozies," Deeks also reminded. "They're off living their own happy ending thing. Just like we are."

Kensi took that in.

"Only they're enjoying their happy ending in the backseat of a Mustang," Deeks brassily muttered. "It's more their speed."

As crass as that sounded, Kensi knew it to be true. Like her and Deeks, Fern and Max were insatiable. They never could get enough of each other.

"Yeah," she agreed.

Hand-in-hand, the two continued to enjoy being out in paradise with Monty.

* * *

 **To my dear readers, thank you so much for checking out my story!** **I loved writing it, and I hope you enjoyed the characters' adventures.** **I also appreciate the feedback you gave me.** **Also, a special thanks to my brother, who helped me with this story.** **He offered great advice and helpful suggestions.** **I'm truly grateful to you all, and I enjoyed sharing in this journey with you.**


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